


On the Origin of Half-Elves

by Lumelle



Series: Mates, Marks, Souls and Such [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Courtship, Cultural Differences, F/M, Half-Elves, M/M, Mpreg, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:32:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5011843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumelle/pseuds/Lumelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas has found his mate, but that doesn't always guarantee happiness. Especially not when his dwarf still holds a grudge over old insults.</p><p>Of course, even when they start to get along, things aren't necessarily easy when rumours from the Misty Mountains make Legolas ride out to look for his lost brother... and ends up with a party of dwarves following him, because you can't ever have just one dwarf.</p><p>Now if only he can get through the adventure without any angry relatives taking an axe to his vulnerable parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iwasnttrainedforthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwasnttrainedforthis/gifts).



> This is written in response to a request made for the 600th comment on [Growing Dwarves](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3163292). It was supposed to be a little ficlet, but things kept happening.

The pain wasn't easing at all.

Gimli sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing at his chest. It was burning, a sharp, insistent pain that he might have attributed to some wound except he knew he hadn't received one. He'd managed to send his mother away, insisting that he would be fine, but now a part of him was starting to regret it. He was almost a grown dwarf, sure, and in no way needed coddling, but there was a traitorous voice at the back of his mind that tried to insist that sometimes a little bit of coddling was in order.

There was noise behind the door, and for a moment he thought his mother had returned after all. As the door opened, though, he instead found his father striding in, followed by Óin, Thorin, and… an elf? It wasn't Kíli's elf, either, but the blond one visiting from Mirkwood. Gimli was fairly sure he was a prince or something, not that it made much of a difference. Gimli had grown up around princes, pulling at Fíli's hair and wrestling with Kíli before he'd ever had his first weapon. It took more than a title to make him impressed.

"Gimli!" His father rushed to his bed, concern clear on his face. "How are you feeling, my lad? Any better?"

"Not much, I'm afraid." Lying would have done little good when he was so clearly in pain. "It's like something's burning me, and it just won't stop."

"Well, fortunately, we think we know what the matter is." Thorin walked closer, coming to a stop next to his bed. This might have worried Gimli, if he'd had the energy for things such as worrying. Thorin had been rather fussy about his husband of late; for him to have left Bilbo back in the feasting hall to come see Gimli had to mean something was amiss. "Take off your shirts."

It was an odd request, but not entirely unthinkable. After all, if his parents had told them anything, they would know it was his chest that ached, and it made sense for a healer to have a closer look. Gimli pushed himself up to sit on the bed, then started peeling off the layers of tunics and shirts he had on. They were his best tunics, too, as was appropriate for the celebration.

He hadn't quite gotten off his last undershirt, arms and head still trapped inside it, as he heard his father gasp out a curse. That was not that unusual, really, Glóin had quite the tongue on him when something inspired him, but it did somewhat concern Gimli that he would react so to seeing his chest. Was there some wound that he hadn't noticed? But how could that have been?

Finally getting rid of the last layer, he looked down at his chest and blinked. It was all intact, with no wounds to be seen, certainly nothing that could have explained the pain that wrecked him. Underneath his dusting of chest hair, though, he could see a design on his skin, something quite like a tattoo except he knew damn well he had not sat to have this one made. "What's this?"

"That," Thorin said, his voice grave but not quite enough so to cause alarm, "is a soulmark."

"Can't be," Gimli snorted. "I may not have one of my own yet, but I'm not quite ignorant about these things."

"And have you spoken with Kíli of late?" Thorin's eyebrows rose higher. "He thought himself without one entirely, as you recall, until our journey."

"Well, aye, but his case is different." Gimli frowned. "After all, he's the match of an —" He halted, suddenly, remembering the one strange presence in the room. His father made sense, worried as he was, and Thorin seemed to know something about the matter. Of course Óin might be there, as his uncle and a healer both, but then...

But then there was the elf, with a strange look on his face, lingering behind the rest and fidgeting as though he were in a hurry to go somewhere.

"No." It was a breath more than a word, or perhaps mostly a curse, but it was the most coherent response he could make to the thought that was dawning on him with frightening clarity. "No, it can't be."

"What you have on your skin is the mark of an elven soul." The elf spoke with a quiet voice, but then nobody was trying to speak over him, not now. "We elves get our marks when we first find our match, and after that they are there for life. When the mark first appears, though, it can be quite painful, even distressingly so."

Óin nodded, as though he didn't see any fault with this. "So it's quite ordinary, then? And how do you treat such pain?"

"The easiest treatment is the touch of their mate. Ah, on the chest, that is, nothing further than that is required," the elf hurried to say with a flush as several sharp glances were directed his way. "Once it has been established that they've found their match, the pain subsides and will not return."

"And you think you're my match, do you?" Because why else would the elf be here?

"Have you seen many other elves of late?" Well, that was a good point. "And besides, I bear the mark of a dwarf on my back, have done so ever since I was fully grown. Tauriel bears the same, the match to the design over Kíli's heart."

"You can ease my pain, then?" Because the burn was still there, clawing through his chest like a hundred evil beasts, radiating pain and heat through his entire chest until he was sure he could not quite breathe anymore.

"If you would allow." The elf hesitated until Gimli gave a small nod, then stepped to the side of his bed as Thorin and Glóin both moved aside to allow him closer.

The elf's touch on his chest was hesitant, yet from the first brush it was like a soothing balm on a wound, spreading cool relief all over him. It wasn't just the pain in his chest that subsided at the contact; the touch seemed to extend much farther than it should have, soothing and relaxing his entire body. As the elf stepped back, Gimli almost moaned his leaving, sagging down to the bed in wordless relief.

"Better?" A quiet question, again, but it wasn't like he could have missed it.

"Much." He managed a small nod, swallowing. "So... that confirms it, then?"

"That it does." Thorin nodded. "Now, of course this is a unusual circumstance, but I think in this case , we ought to follow dwarven tradition and not elven, as we are in a dwarven mountain this time. Which means —"

"Oh, blast you and your speeches," Glóin groused. "I'll have no negotiations about this one! Not after what he said about my beautiful wife!"

"What?" Gimli tensed. He'd heard the story, of course, many times so already. "He's the one who insulted Ma?"

"Oh, yes, and you as well." Glóin threw another glare at the elf, who at least had the decency to look abashed. "Call you a mutated goblin, he did. Fancy how that would go, doesn't it."

"I was mistaken," the elf murmured. "Or young and foolish, whatever you prefer. I did my best to aid your quest, mind, after the first misunderstandings."

"Misunderstandings? That's what you call throwing us in the cells to rot?" Glóin straightened to his full height, which still only barely reached the elf's chest. "You come close my son again, and I'll show you misunderstandings! I don't care what the bloody marks say, I —"

"Peace, Glóin." Thorin stepped forward now, and though he didn't exactly look on the elf with much pleasure, he at least stayed calm. "The marks are as they are, and you know very well even a match that doesn't quite look ideal at first will turn out for the better. We are given our marks for a reason, after all."

"The mark of dwarves, perhaps!" Glóin huffed. "Who knows what an elven mark might mean! No, Thorin, I've followed you this far and would do so again, but this is asking too much of me!"

"Well, it's a good thing you're not the one who gets to decide, then, but the young ones themselves." Thorin glanced at the elf. "I don't think we're getting anywhere here right now, but we've established the basics, at least. Is there anything else you'd like to say?"

"Right." The elf seemed to gather himself; at least he wasn't entirely spineless, then. "I am Legolas Thranduilion, of Mirkwood and its guard. I have waited for you a long time, and will wait longer still if I must. In time, I hope, you may grow to see that I hold no ill will for you."

"Don't hold your breath, elf. I've little affection for those who'd insult my Ma." How very dare he! The most beautiful dam in Ered Luin and now Erebor, and that was even with Princess Dís there!

"That, I suppose, I deserve." And with a little nod and not much else, the elf turned and left the room.

"So, how do you feel now, lad?" Óin started fussing about him when nothing else was said. "Are you really better?"

"Yes, I am." Gimli frowned, sitting upright again and starting to pull on his discarded clothes. "The pain is gone, so at least he got that much right."

"I do hope you'll reconsider," Thorin said. "I know I'm not one to talk about affection for elves, but from what I have seen of Kíli and his she-elf, the match is true, and the princeling did help us escape and later aided us in battle. I'm still not fond of him, mind, but he's certainly better than his father."

"Yes, well, maybe he should have thought about wanting a dwarf's affections before he insulted them." Gimli frowned. "The feast is still going on, right? I haven't missed it all?"

"It's not over in a while yet. You should have plenty of time to enjoy it." His father handed him another tunic. "Are you sure you want to go, though? I could bring you food here, if you'd like to rest some more. I mean," he grimaced, "the elf is probably heading that way, now."

Gimli paused, considering. He was in no hurry to run into the elf again just yet, but on the other hand, he really did not want to miss the feast entirely. "I might rest another moment," he said then. And, well, he did still feel a touch weak, wrung out by the pain and its sudden relief both. "I'll join the feast later, when everyone's less likely to ask questions. Shouldn't be too hard to miss a bloody walking tree like that one." After all, the last thing he wanted right now was to enter any conversations about his supposed match with an elf.

"Aye, that's a wise decision. I'll bring you some food for now, all right? And I'll tell your mother you're better, she's worried so, you know she always worries." As though his father wasn't the worst one in that respect, even more so than his uncle, who even now insisted on poking and prodding as though suspecting he might have lied about feeling better.

It was good to have others fussing over him, anyway, for all that it made him feel much younger than he actually was.

It distracted him rather well from the thought of how gentle the elf's hand had been on his skin.

*

Really, Legolas shouldn't have been surprised.

He wasn't, not really. A bit disappointed, perhaps, but only in himself; he should have known better than to hope for anything more. After all, he'd had a while to get accustomed to the idea of being bound to a dwarf, while his dwarf had not had the same luxury. Never mind that if Gimli had even heard of him before, it had been as the elf who insulted him and his mother.

Never had Legolas wished so readily that his tongue hadn't been quite so sharp.

Whatever his regrets, though, they didn't help him either way at this moment. He had been shooed out almost as soon as it was certain Gimli was not in pain anymore, and while he was glad to have brought some relief for his other half, he did feel as though he'd left a small piece of himself behind. Even if that piece happened to be very loud and hairy.

"Don't you look cheerful."

Startled, Legolas looked up. He would never get used to the mountain, he was sure of it. It shouldn't have been so different from his father's palace, yet he felt like all the sounds were muffled here, even the presence of others muted by the thick stone walls. Oh, he could still hear approaching footsteps if he tried, but he could no more pick them up without even trying, not as he had before. Truly, all of the Greenwood Guard would have been quite ashamed of him.

Fortunately this dwarf did not seem hostile, standing there in the corridor and packing his pipe as though he hadn't just appeared there out of nowhere. Something about him seemed familiar, though it took Legolas a moment to place him. "You are Nori, right?" Like he could have been mistaken about that hair. "Aren't you one of those married today?"

"Aye, that's true." Nori nodded without any particular concern for this clearly strange state of things. "What of it?"

"Well, shouldn't you be back at the party? Celebrating with your new husband?" Or retiring to their marriage bed, but they weren't quite familiar enough for Legolas to tease him about that.

To his surprise, the dwarf just snorted, continuing to pack his pipe. "Yes, well, that's all nice and well for those who don't have any other duties." He shrugged. "With Thorin gone, Bilbo let Dwalin and me make our picks between two chores. One would check in on the situation here, the other would interfere in the squabble that started soon after you left, when someone bumped into Ori more roughly than Fíli appreciated. Dwalin let me choose first, so I took the one less likely to end in royals being hurt."

Nori's light tone did not seem to match the situation he was describing. Legolas frowned. "You think it would be that serious? This dwarf would truly fight his own prince, on his wedding day no less?"

This gained him another snort. "Hardly. Even without Dwalin standing there all big and intimidating, everyone knows Fíli's one of Thorin's best fighters. They wouldn't risk that just because he's one eye short, now. No, I came after you because I know my nephew, and for all that he might be shy at times he's got a bit of a temper to him. He might not be a warrior and he knows it, but I hardly think he'll let Fíli protect him from anything smaller than an orc just because he's taken to seed."

"He's what?" Surely that didn't mean what Legolas thought it meant.

"You know, in the family way. Expecting a child. Bearing?" Oh. So it did mean what he thought. "They've only known for a couple of days for sure, so I suppose Fíli's still getting used to the idea. I hope he figures it out fast. Ori's spent his whole life being coddled, what with having Dori and Balin for parents; I doubt he'll tolerate the same from his husband, certainly not when he's not even showing yet."

"But I thought Ori was a male dwarf." Not that he could be sure, dwarves being dwarves, but he'd thought he had at least that much right. "I mean, Tauriel told me she was talking with Kíli about it once, and he told her the entire Company is male but that's only by coincidence, not because female dwarves couldn't travel or adventure."

"And that'd be right, on both counts." Nori smirked, lighting his pipe. "However, if two dwarves are bound together, then no matter how they appear on the outside, Mahal will always have made one of them capable of bearing. Well, at least one of them; I've heard tell sometimes both of them might bear, but that's rare. It's the only way we don't die out, with so few dams in our number."

"You mean… male dwarves can bear?" That seemed… unlikely.

"Not just dwarves, from the looks of it. Or what did you think is going on with Bilbo?"

For the most part, he had been trying not to think of such. "I assumed it was some hobbit secret. They are known for their fertility, after all."

"Aye, might be a bit of that, for him to take seed so soon, but from what Bilbo says only female hobbits are supposed to bear." Nori took a long drag off his pipe, starting a slow walk along the corridor. Legolas hurried after him for lack of anywhere better to be. "Though perhaps it's not just his being a hobbit; it seems Mahal's been in a hurry to bless our little expedition. As I said, Ori's bearing, and I'd bet good money the other prince's got news to share about his lovely lass soon enough."

"Tauriel's with child?" His voice got a bit embarrassingly high. "That's — how can that be?"

"How? The usual way, I'd assume. You do know how babies come to be, right? You elves don't carve them out of blocks of wood?"

"Of course I do! It's just — it's rare for elves to take to it so fast, that's all. And how can the same be true of Ori? Even aside from his sex, I was told dwarves don't have children out of wedlock." Not that it was that, not anymore, but still — to take their wedding vows already bearing? And the spouse of the crown prince, no less?

"It's more complicated than that." Nori glanced at him. "I'm supposed to be coy about this, to be proper and all, but since we're alone, I'll speak plain. When we say we don't bear bastards, that's not to mean we never screw each other outside the marriage bed. It's just that when a child is born, if the bearer's not married, then we call the child the son or daughter of the closest married couple. The actual parents still do the caring and the rearing, and more often than not everyone knows well enough who they are, we just don't say it like that, you see."

"And that's common, then?" Now why did it not surprise him that dwarves would make it complicated?

"Happens often enough, for one reason or another." Nori shrugged. "Balin swore to only marry back in Erebor, yet he got Dori to take to seed. Ori was called my brother until today, but we all knew the truth well enough; now that they're married, Ori can call himself son of Balin at last."

"Why are you telling me this?" Not that he found it distasteful or anything, just… baffling, mostly. "If even speaking of such things is improper, surely it's not something that you should share with one who's not a dwarf?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Nori looked at him as though he were the one acting strange. "From what I hear, you're matched to a dwarf. Gimli's a bit young, yes, but I'd imagine you'll marry not long after he comes of age. Why wouldn't I tell you the basic things? You'll need to be familiar with them soon enough."

"I rather doubt that will happen." Legolas ran a hand over his hair, resisting the urge to look back in the direction of the chambers of Gimli's family. "I think I can count myself lucky to have escaped with all my skin and bones intact. Neither Gimli nor his father seemed too happy to realise he might have found his match in me."

Nori took another long drag of his pipe before answering. "When we first found Fíli and Ori to be matched, I threatened to slice the mark right off Fíli's back. When it seemed clear he would make Ori happy, though, I backed off. Wouldn't make sense to be horrible to him if he's going to be responsible for my nephew's happiness, after all." Legolas made to protest, but Nori lifted a hand to silence him. "As for Gimli himself, well, I'll tell you something that's no secret at all." He smirked, a look that almost made Legolas forget he held no visible weapons at all. "When I first found my match, I was sure one of us would kill the other before we ever stood over a wedding stone."

"Oh?" Legolas frowned. Sure, they seemed a mismatched pair, but from what little he had seen they suited each other, trading jokes no other would understand and moving around each other with the familiarity of long experience of working together. 

"Aye. We started out on the opposite sides, you see, Dwalin and I. He was a guard captain, I was a criminal. I was a commoner, he was a noble. I was my sneaky mistrustful self, he was grumpy and utterly devoted to Thorin. When our marks were matched, I was sure we could never work." Nori shrugged. "And then I found out that devotion could also turn to me, that he was loyal and caring and brave beyond all measure. Still grumpy, yes, and still gives much of his time to Thorin, but then someone has to make sure the king survives long enough for Fíli to grow a brain, so I can't fault him for that. And it seems he's found some things in me that he likes, too, and some of them even outside the bed."

No, Legolas was not going to flush at that. He was not. "You think that can happen to us, too?"

"I trust so. It's rare indeed that a match won't come to fruition, and that usually only happens if some unforgivable grievance is between them. And before you speak, your insult isn't nearly strong enough for that. You aided us, in Mirkwood and battle both, and Gimli and his father will soon see the value in that. I'm not saying it will happen overnight, but aren't you elves supposed to think little of a year or three?"

"We elves are also supposed to be wed to our match as soon as we find them, so that we might be complete."

"Well, that won't happen, because even if the lad were willing he's too young to be wed yet. Old enough to choose where he lies for the night, mind, so don't you fret over that." Nori laughed, no doubt at the heat Legolas could feel rising to his face at the implication. "You've made a good match, Princeling. Glóin's cousin to Dwalin and Balin, you know, their fathers were both sons of Farin. That line is loyal beyond all measure. Once you have their love, it's not ever lost; even among dwarves they have hearts steady enough to be of note."

"But for now he still won't even see me." Legolas sighed. "I thought my questions would be answered once I found my match. Yet now I have found him, and find myself without a clue as to what I am to do now."

"Now? You wait. Soon enough there'll be negotiations, I expect, though if your father's unable or unwilling to take part I'm sure someone will stand in your stead. I'll wager Thorin will want everything done in the dwarven manner to make up for Kíli's elven wedding, fair's only fair, after all. And don't worry about Gimli. If Mahal's meant the two of you for each other, then that's how you will be, even if it might take a moment for you both to realise it."

"I hope you are right." He sighed again, though this time his heart did not feel quite so gloomy. "Thank you, Master Nori. You've little reason to help me so, and yet I find myself with plenty of advice."

"Less grief on you means less on Tauriel, means less on Kíli, means less on Fíli, means less on Ori. I may not be the best of uncles, but if my talking to you might spare Ori from any upset, then talk to you I will." Nori grinned. "Besides, I'd like to think I can do a better job of it than Dwalin, and the last thing we need right now is making Bilbo unhappy."

"That would seem unwise, yes." Legolas sighed. "You really don't think my situation is hopeless?"

"Oh, no. I know hopeless, Princeling, and you are far from it." Nori chuckled. "If I were to bet on it — and I just might, yet — I would say Gimli will come around long before he's old enough to be wed without his father's permission. Just don't insult his mother again, and things will work out fine."

"I certainly hope so." They were almost back at the feasting hall again, Legolas decided, Nori's steps leading them there without Legolas even taking notice until then. "Ah. You must know this — what is a good way to court a young dwarf?" Because clearly he had to work to gain the favour of his mate, and he was quite willing to do so.

Nori gave him a glance he couldn't well interpret, but seemed to consider his question in all seriousness. "Gifts tend to do well," he said after a moment. "Some will say rich ones are better, but don't count on it — Glóin has never been poor, and is now more wealthy than ever, and it's not like they're not aware of who you are, that you might dazzle them with riches. One like Gimli will be much more impressed by knowledge of his tastes. I can't help you there, but the princes have been friends with him since they were wee, I'm sure they can give you more advice on that."

"I'll ask them, then." He hoped at least Kíli would help him, though probably only after laughing at him for a while. Tauriel had the worst taste in dwarves, really. "Anything else?"

"Get to know him. Might be a bit hard at first, but it's necessary. Might help you a bit, too. Just because you've known a while that you'd be bound to a dwarf doesn't change the fact that we must be awfully short and loud and hairy in your eyes, still."

Legolas made to protest, but they had reached the hall doors now, Nori disappearing into the crowd. Legolas paused at the door for a moment, then looked around for Tauriel's tall form among the seemingly endless dwarves. He needed to talk with her, now, and Kíli would probably be near her as well.

He needed all the help he could get.

*

It shouldn't have been this difficult to find an elf in a mountain, yet somehow it seemed nobody could tell Gimli where the Mirkwood prince could be found.

Of course, it didn't exactly help that all the dwarves he came across seemed to find it highly amusing that he would even be looking, as though he didn't have every reason to do so. Or perhaps it amused them that it had taken him a couple of days to do so, but then he didn't feel he could be faulted overly much for that. He'd have liked to see them reacting any better, finding out their One was an elf.

He didn't run into Kíli. Perhaps that was for the best.

When he at last found the elf it was by chance more than anything, coming across him in the higher parts of the mountain. Few enough dwarves came here, and not only because most areas had not been cleared yet. He found Legolas in one of the less precarious locations, seated on a balcony overlooking one of the greater caverns within the mountain.

"That's elves for you," Gimli grunted, unable to help himself. "Always need to look down on others."

The elf wasn't startled, not quite, but he didn't look like he was expecting Gimli's approach, either. "I assure you, that is not my reason for being here."

"Aye, I suppose not. You can accomplish that easily enough just by standing up." Gimli walked closer, dropping down on the free stretch of bench next to the elf. "Took me a while to find you. Many seemed convinced you'd fled the mountain for Dale or beyond."

"I did think about that." Legolas wouldn't quite look at him, but then Gimli supposed he couldn't truly blame him. Their previous encounter had not exactly progressed favourably for the elf. "I wouldn't have gone further than Dale — couldn't have, not truly — but I wasn't sure I should remain in the mountain."

"I see." He didn't ask why; that would have been a pointless question if he ever saw one. "And what convinced you otherwise?"

"Mostly? Princess Dís sought me out and spoke with me." Legolas shook his head. "She convinced me I should at least acquaintance myself with the way dwarves live, while waiting for you to grow less angry with me." He hurried to continue, as though afraid of what Gimli might say if left to speak. "I have to say, I was rather surprised. Many of your Company have shown me some measure of clemency, yet it seems she is the least opposed to my continued presence here."

"Aye." Gimli gave a small nod. "From what I've heard, she might have more reason to be friendly with elves than most others in this mountain."

"Oh?" Legolas frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

Gimli hesitated. He was not one to gossip, not really, but this seemed like a relevant topic. "Mind you, I know nothing for certain. It's all rumours and speculation, and both are older than I am. Just… some would have you believe Kíli isn't the first in the line of Durin to be bound to an elf."

"How could that be?" Legolas sounded disbelieving. "Surely that would be impossible to hide!"

"Not necessarily." Gimli shrugged, digging out his pipe to get a moment to think. "What I know for a fact is that she left the mountain soon after coming to her majority. She had no mark at that time, from what I hear, but some take longer than others to show it. Some twenty years later she returns, with a widow's braids and two dwarflings in tow, Kíli not yet a year old then, and tells everyone she found her husband and lost him again before coming back."

"That's hardly enough for rumours to spark, surely."

"Not on its own, no." He packed his pipe with unhurried fingers. From what he understood, he had plenty of time to spare, now, as the match of an elf. "Then, however, her wee lads grow up, and both turn out taller and slimmer than even Thorin ever was. Fíli's the only one in his line in any recent reckoning to have such hair of gold, and even most of our babes have more beard than Kíli now in his full years. Never mind their choice of weapons, too — bows are rare enough for dwarves, and Fíli fights with twin blades. We dwarves like our swords well enough, but most of those who choose a sword as their weapon will have a heavy two-handed one, or pair one in their main hand with a shield or a knife in the other. A sword in each hand is very elvish indeed. None of that is any proof of anything, of course, but all that put together with the fact none ever met her mate is enough to get some tongues wagging."

"And do you believe those rumours?"

"I never thought much of it either way." He took a pause to light his pipe. "They are my cousins, regardless of who their father might or might not be. Don't see how he should matter to me when I never met him, and even Fíli can't remember much about him."

"What of the king, though?" And really, Gimli might have wondered just why the elf worried so, but then, it made sense. He had every reason to wonder how the dwarves might react to a half-elven child. It might even matter to them, some day. "He doesn't seem too opposed to Kíli and Tauriel's union. Might that be because he's seen such things before?"

"I don't know if even he knows the princes' parentage for sure; the princess has always been of the opinion it's no one's business but hers. He made a statement, once, to respond to the rumours. Said that his sister's sons are his heirs, no matter who their father might have been, and that anyone who questioned this could take their arguments to Dís herself." Gimli shrugged. "Haven't seen yet anyone foolish enough to try."

"She is formidable, then?"

Gimli snorted. "Heard some say she was to be born first, but she didn't want the hassle of ruling so she bullied Thorin into being the firstborn, before either of them left Mahal's forge. And truly, if any could do that, it's Dís."

Legolas nodded. "So if she had been born first, she would have the throne?"

"Oh, aye. We don't stand for all that nonsense of men. If they need a prick to be able to rule, clearly they're doing something very different from us." Gimli shook his head, ignoring the hint of pink on the elf's cheeks. "The firstborn inherits, unless the current king chooses another. That rarely happens unless someone's spectacularly bad, though. Now, we've a unusual situation in our hands, with Thorin having a child so long after naming his heir. As it stands, Fíli will inherit the throne, unless Thorin specifically casts him away, and Fíli's child after him; whether Thorin or Fíli turn out to have a son or a daughter has nothing to do with any of that."

"That seems sensible enough." Legolas paused. "My people put more stock in age than gender, in any case, but for us, the differences that matter are much larger than what would appear between siblings."

"How so?" Gimli took a puff from his pipe. "I know some of your number are positively ancient, but would long life not also sometimes mean long distances between children? Or do she-elves grow barren like the womenfolk of men?"

"Nothing like that, it just doesn't happen, though whether by choice or circumstance, I do not know." Legolas shook his head. "Elves in general marry young, or as soon as they find their mate, and aside from some very strange cases children will be born in the first century or so. I have a brother myself, some thirty years my elder, though we're not a typical case since my mother died while I was not yet grown."

Gimli nodded. "Thirty years is not unthinkable for dwarves to have between children, though of course for us the allotted time is shorter to begin with." He shook his head. "My parents wanted many children, but only got me despite all their hopes; it's why my father fusses so, I think. Sometimes I've looked at my cousins and wished for a sibling; other times I've looked at them and been glad I never had one."

"It's not all bad." Legolas shrugged. "Not that I've seen my brother in a while, mind, he went wandering nearly a century ago."

"But that's not much for an elf, now is it?"

"No, I suppose not." The elf offered him a small smile. "So, now that we've sufficiently avoided the topic. Why exactly did you seek me out?"

"Is it not obvious?" Gimli blew out a smoke ring. "I've been told you're the match for my soul, seems strange not to give you even a chance. Mind you, I'm really not happy with what you said about my Ma, but she herself pointed out it's hardly the fault of an elf if he can't see the beauty of a well-kept beard."

"That doesn't bother you, then?" Legolas frowned. "To think that you are matched to one who might never learn to see the beauty in a dwarf?"

"Does it not bother you, then? You know I've learnt that beauty is a stocky frame and a thick beard, a handsome nose and a heavy step. And yet you came into the mountain to find your other half. Did you never stop to wonder if a dwarf might not find you beautiful?"

Legolas was quiet for a moment, looking out into the open depths of the mountain. When he spoke, he did so in low, almost halting tones. "I used to think I would never find my match, that my strange mark meant there was nobody for me. My brother, he never had much of a mind for romance anyway, used to say we'd be all alone together, he and Tauriel and I. Except then he wandered off and never came back, and then Tauriel started to feel a longing, and I was left to wonder if I'd be alone forever."

"And then you found your match, except he, too, turned you away." Gimli could make few excuses for his behaviour, save that he had still been feeling the lingering pain. He had been upset, yes, but he had also been needlessly cruel to someone who, at the time, had only wanted to relieve his ache.

"You're here now, though." Legolas seemed to hesitate for a moment, before he reached out to touch Gimli's arm. "And you said you'd give me a chance?"

"Don't make it a question, elf." He covered Legolas's hand with his own. "I can't promise to find beauty in you, but then, I've found beauty in stranger things before. And I've been told I can learn to love you, unlikely though it may seem, so seems foolish not to even try. Just don't try to insult my mother again, and I'm sure we can work things out in time."

"I'll be sure to avoid that from now on." Legolas nodded. "So. Perhaps we should talk about something else? Something a bit cheerier, maybe?"

"Aye, that seems like a good idea." Gimli thought for a moment, then chuckled. "So, how long do you think it'll take until they make a proper announcement of the new royal babies on the way?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gimli is just starting to grow closer to his elf when things take a new turn. Well, never let it be said that a dwarf isn't ready for a little adventure, and Gimli isn't the only one proving that, either.
> 
> Now if Ori can get through the entire thing without getting too sick of Fíli's fussing, they just might all be fine in the end.

There was, Gimli was certain, nothing quite as charming as Legolas' hair.

It was the first thing in the elf that he had truly grown to love, though he had to admit there were other aspects as well in which the princeling was not altogether hopeless. The hair, though, was what first truly drew him close, what inspired him to spend ages touching and caressing and admiring. Legolas did not seem to mind too much, even claimed to enjoy it when Gimli combed his hair, and if the elf often ended up with dwarven braids in his hair, well, it was hardly inappropriate, really. After all, they were matched, though Glóin still held out hope that Gimli would come to his senses and cast out his elf once more.

He might have, really, and a small part of him even wished he could have; it certainly would have made for a simpler life for him. It wasn't that bad a life, that of a solitary, and he wouldn't have had to worry about elves and their peculiarities. Gimli might have tried to cling to his rage, his indignation at the insult directed at his mother, but it was hard to do so when even his Ma herself thought such a grudge would have been as unnecessary as it was silly. She had received an apology from Legolas, she had announced, and a very fine compliment on the gleam and colour of her beard besides, and she would not allow any silly dwarves give a hard time to the match of her only child even if said silly dwarves were her husband and son. And, really, Gimli knew better than to argue with his mother in such a matter.

Not that he probably would have been successful in staying mad at the elf anyway when Legolas sometimes gave him a smile that did funny things to his chest. It perhaps wasn't the brilliant sun that old poems would assure him the smile of his One should inspire, but it was a beautiful smile for all that it was on a frightfully bare and smooth face, and he rather wished to see more of it, if indeed that was in his power. He wanted to see more of the smile, and hear more of the songs that Legolas sang at times, and know more about this strange elf who had cast aside his father and his kingdom to come into the mountain to seek a dwarf who might have some hope of learning to love him.

And, well, he really wanted to get his hands on that hair. It was like strands of fine silk, or spun gold perhaps, and for all that it was sometimes slippery between his rough fingers it was a pleasure to play with.

"You certainly seem to enjoy touching my hair." Lucky for them, Legolas did not seem to mind, sitting quite peacefully while Gimli wove a complicated braid into his hair. They had taken a spot outside the mountain, the entrance to Erebor to one side and Dale to the other, enjoying the warm day. Legolas might well have been willing to live in the mountain to be closer to Gimli but he still seemed to enjoy the outdoors more, for all that his father's palace had not been so very different from the caverns of Erebor.

"If it bothers you, you'll need to tell me so." He slipped a small bead onto one of the strands of hair before continuing his work. "I find I do rather enjoy it, indeed, and it gives me the excuse to gift you even more ornaments for your hair."

"Oh, if I had any opposition, I would let you know." Legolas hummed a little. "So, is there any special reason why Tauriel told me this morning she would kill her husband and his brother soon as she can catch them, and should I worry that she might do something at least one of them would regret later?"

"A prank gone awry, I think." Gimli rolled his eyes. He loved his cousins, he really did, but they could be a bit much sometimes. "From what I understand, Fíli and Kíli had a plan to track a trail of honey all the way between the royal quarters and the outside of the mountain, to lead some ants there to annoy Bilbo. Which wasn't a good idea to begin with, you know how he gets about keeping anything unpleasant from the babies, so clearly they were just lucky that it was foiled before they could try."

It had been quite the shock to everyone but Bilbo when he had given birth to not only one but two royal babies, the first twins born to Durin's line as far as anyone could recall. Thorin had quickly recovered from his shock to become one of the most protective parents Gimli had ever known — and he was saying this as son of Glóin — but Bilbo was the more fearsome one if one was foolish enough to even try to upset his precious babies.

"That sounds like a foolish venture indeed." Legolas made to shake his head, but stopped as Gimli gave his hair a gentle tug, not hard enough to hurt, just to remind. "Something went wrong, I presume?"

"Apparently their jar of honey got broken in some hassle, and before they could get it all cleaned up some of it got on Tauriel's favourite seat, and from there it ended up all over her hair. I'm rather hoping she'll give up on her plans for murder soon enough, but for the time being, I doubt either of the princes is her favourite person in the mountain."

"That would explain her annoyance, I suppose." Legolas chuckled, now. "Are we certain they are both grown dwarves?"

"In their years, at least, if not otherwise." Gimli snorted. "I'd imagine they've had little time or opportunity for such play on the road, or even soon after that with recovery and rebuilding to be done. Now things are starting to ease up, so they can afford to be silly sometimes, now. Does not mean everyone's going to be happy about it, though."

"You don't seem as drawn to such jests."

"I would say I'm of a calmer character, but I know I have my father's temper, and that's remarkable even in the line of Durin. And I did get dragged along for quite a few of their schemes when I was younger, so I'm not entirely innocent. Never got into quite the same kind of trouble on my own, though, so in that we are different. I've heard their younger uncle was much the same, though I never met him myself. He died in Azanulbizar, well before I was ever born."

"Ah." Legolas was quiet for a moment, long enough so for Gimli to finish off his braid and fasten it with a simple clasp. "My brother was much the same, you know, always finding some way to joke or tease. Tauriel has sometimes said I've become less cheerful since he left, but it seems hard for me to play around as I used to when he is not there to go along with my jests."

"I think I might have liked to know that more cheerful you." He thought he was catching glimpses of such, sometimes, when he caught Legolas in a more carefree moment, when his sometimes almost grim exterior made way for smiles that almost bordered on mischievous.

"You do lighten my heart, my mate. Perhaps you could once again lead me to such levity." And that, that made Gimli's heart beat just a bit faster.

Of course, there was little enough he could do to bring a smile on Legolas' face as they were walking through Dale some days later only to have an elf rush up to them. "Prince Legolas!"

For a brief moment Legolas seemed happy to see the elf, only to immediately turn serious as he saw the other's expression. They spoke for a little while in the melodious language of elves, and what few words Gimli had managed to learn so far did not even allow him to guess at the topic of the conversation, never mind the particulars. All he knew was that this elf was clearly from Mirkwood, and that whatever he said agitated Legolas greatly. At some point he was even shouting, drawing the gazes of everyone around them, though Gimli's touch to his arm seemed to calm him enough that he at least wasn't yelling quite so much anymore.

At the end of the conversation, the strange elf pressed something into Legolas' hand, then turned to go, though not before Gimli could catch his apologetic expression. He waited for a moment, and as Legolas did not say anything, simply stared at his hand with a stormy expression, he cleared his throat.

"So. Am I allowed to know what's going on, here?"

"Gimli!" Legolas started, as though he had forgotten for a moment that Gimli even was there. "I'm sorry, I quite neglected you. It's…" He sighed. "Come, let us go. I'd rather not discuss it here."

Gimli nodded, understanding. If whatever news the elf had brought had upset Legolas so, clearly this was no discussion for a public area, at least not in a language everyone around them might understand. "We ought to be heading back to Erebor soon, anyway. My Ma will be expecting us for dinner, remember."

"Right." Legolas sighed, and that was all he said until they were out of the city entirely. It wasn't until they were on their way toward Erebor, well out of earshot of anyone who might have made to spy on their conversation, that he spoke again. "I need to leave Erebor. No, not just Erebor, Dale as well. I need to head west."

"What?" Gimli frowned. "Is it your father? Is he demanding your return?"

"Nothing of him, for once. Well, except that his lack of action requires me to act instead." At last Legolas opened his hand, revealing what was inside. It was a ring, a simple enough silver piece, though it was engraved all around with delicate little symbols.

"That's pretty, but tells me very little."

"This… this ring belongs to my brother." Legolas closed his hand around it again, staring down at his closed fist as though hoping it might reveal to him some previously unknown secret. "That elf, he was from the Greenwood Guard. They encountered a group of goblins near the western border of the forest. It's rare enough that goblins come that far east from the mountains, but since so many of them fell in the battle, it may be that those who survive are looking for food elsewhere. They thought to capture a couple of the goblins to find out more, but upon searching them, they found this on one of the creatures."

"Goblins had your brother's ring?" That brought to mind many possibilities, none of them pleasant.

"Indeed. Some of the elves in the party knew my brother before he left, and asked the goblin where it had gotten the ring. It said…" Legolas paused as though gathering his strength. "It said it was from the elf they had locked up in the mountain."

"No." Gimli could barely get out more than a breath.

"Indeed." Legolas nodded, a grim expression on his face. "Of course they brought the matter to my father, but he wouldn't believe them, said the creature had to be lying in hopes of saving its life. He even forbade them from going west of the forest, said he wouldn't risk any more lives on a fool's errand when so many had already been lost in battle."

"But — it's about your brother!" Clearly he had to misunderstand something here, right? "His own son! How could he be so callous?"

"I think it's less that he's callous and more that he's afraid to hope." Legolas shook his head. "So, they decided — unknown to my father, of course — that the only thing they might do was to let me know."

"And now you have to go looking for him." Right. That was understandable.

"Indeed." Now, his elf nodded. "If there's any chance they have my brother prisoner — if there's any way at all that could be true — then I need to know."

"Of course. That's only reasonable." Gimli nodded in return. "So. When are we leaving?"

*

Somehow, Legolas was not surprised to see Gimli bringing a pony out of the gates soon after dawn.

"I suppose I don't need to ask what you're doing here." He turned his attention back to his horse, checking his gear one last time. Of course he'd already checked everything when he'd been preparing it in the stables at the mountain, but since he'd needed to walk it over the still less than perfect walkway over the moat. Not that his horse wasn't a calm and surefooted creature, but he didn't want one unexpectedly shifting stone ruining an ankle just as they were supposed to set off.

"Why ask when you already know the answer?" Gimli didn't seem too concerned about his reaction, giving his own gear one last check. From what Legolas could see he was packed for a long journey. Well, it wasn't like he'd had much doubts before, anyway. "I seem to recall telling you I was coming along."

"You don't have to come." Legolas decided he was satisfied with his checks, leaping up on the back of his horse. Gimli followed his example and hoisted himself into saddle as well.

"Oh, but I rather believe I do. After all, my mate seems very determined to go on a quest, and clearly it's my responsibility to come along to make sure he's all right." Gimli gave him a grin that might have almost seemed childishly delighted if not for the large battle axe strapped to his back. Legolas had seen him practice often enough to know he was a deft hand with it despite his youth, though this axe seemed even more menacing than those Gimli used for practice.

"Are you sure this won't cause trouble?" Not that he was going to ask Gimli not to come, a part of him was almost pathetically grateful for help on the journey, but he also didn't want half the mountain riding after them to rescue Gimli from his evil clutches.

Gimli snorted. "I told my Ma that you needed my help to find your brother. She said of course I should help you, and that she'd handle my Da when he finds out and stop him from coming after us." He threw Legolas a grin. "Probably best not to linger too much, though, so we don't end up fighting him after all."

"Right." Well, that sounded good enough for him. "Are you ready to go, then?"

"Oh, I am, but I think we might still have to wait another moment." At Legolas' questioning frown, Gimli nodded toward the mountain gates. "Seemed to me like we aren't the only ones preparing to leave."

Legolas was about to ask what he meant, but the next moment two figures emerged from the mountain, each carefully leading a mount along the walkway. Tauriel had a beautiful horse at hand, while Kíli was leading a pony that seemed all too eager to get moving.

"What are you doing here?" He certainly hadn't told Tauriel anything about his intentions to leave.

"What does it look like?" Tauriel lifted her eyebrows, pausing to adjust her saddlebags before she swung herself up on the back of her horse with little difficulty. "We're coming with you."

"No, you're not." He couldn't allow that, not when he was riding into danger. It was bad enough that he was allowing Gimli to come, but he couldn't exactly ask Gimli to sit back and watch him ride out, not when he knew there was no way he would have stayed if Gimli had found a reason to go on a journey.

"I'd suggest you listen to the lady." Kíli tried to sound serious, Legolas assumed, but he came across more amused than anything. "I tried to speak sense to her, I promise I did, but it's not like she's going to listen to me." He gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. "Such a stubborn creature, my dear wife is."

"As though you have any right to speak." Tauriel rolled her eyes. "You're going to need the help if you plan to brave the goblin tunnels, Legolas, and I won't let you go on your own. He was my friend, too, remember, not just your brother, and I'll be damned if I let you get yourself killed while looking for him."

"But — but you are —"

"Pregnant? Aye, that is true." Tauriel rested a hand on her stomach, where just the slightest bit of a curve could be seen if one looked carefully enough. "Good thing I have my bow, then, isn't it? And a dashing prince who wouldn't let me leave without him, too, just to make sure nothing nasty gets close to me."

"And nothing will, not unless they come through me first." Kíli gave Tauriel a downright besotted smile before turning to look at Legolas again. "So, yeah, we're coming along. This is probably all useless anyway, but you seem to want to try, and we're going to make sure you come back alive at least if nothing else."

"How did you even know I was leaving?" He glanced at Gimli. "You didn't tell them, did you?" But who else might have done so? Legolas had told no one else of his intentions to leave the mountain, never mind anything about a journey that might lie ahead.

"I didn't tell them, no," Gimli replied, scratching his beard as though pondering this turn of events. "I figured Tauriel might want to follow, and also that you probably would not like that overly much, so I thought it best not to mention it. I only told Ori, and him only in case his records of the journey might have included something useful about Goblin Town."

"Except Ori told Fíli, and Fíli told me, and obviously I had to mention it to Tauriel and then she got silly ideas." Kíli sighed, mounting his own pony. "You better not be leading us on a wild goose chase, princeling. If my darling wife has decided to invade Goblin Town, we'd better at least have something to show for it by the end."

"I do hope so." Legolas sighed. "I, ah. Do you know what I'm seeking?"

"Aye, your brother." Kíli grinned. "Honestly, I probably would've agreed to come along even if Tauriel hadn't. I know all about older brothers who manage to get misplaced."

"They do have a tendency to do that, don't they?" Legolas managed a smile, and might have said something else, except he was interrupted by the sound of shouting from beyond the gates. The sound only got louder, and a moment later a dwarf marched out leading a pony, another following right after him.

"Right." Gimli sighed. "I suppose you also mentioned to Fíli that you're coming along?"

Kíli turned to look over to where his brother was apparently chasing a disgruntled Ori and sighed. "Aye, I did. And apparently he's yet to learn the lesson about fighting losing battles."

"Good morning." Ori studiously ignored Fíli's continuing rant, which by now had trailed off into grumbles instead of shouting, and led his pony to the rest of them. He seemed fully prepared for a long journey, with packs and warm clothes and other such things, just as the rest of them. "It appears we will be joining you all."

"And I still don't get how this became a 'we,'" Fíli grumbled as he caught up with them. "I didn't ask you to come along!"

"No, you didn't. And I'm wondering why, exactly." Ori wasn't quite as effortless in getting on his pony as Kíli, but he managed it well enough.

"Because it's not safe!" Well, at least the dwarven princes truly were alike. "I need to go along to keep an eye on Kíli! There's no reason for you to go out there and put yourself at risk."

"Oh, really? So instead I should just sit here all alone and wonder if you'll be coming back or if I'll be raising my child alone?" Ori's disgruntled expression made it clear just what he thought of such an idea.

Fíli's remaining eye immediately widened. "I wouldn't do that to you!"

"So either this journey is dangerous or it isn't. Which one are you going to stick with?" Ori huffed. "I've faced a dragon and survived, as I think you might recall, and my brothers did not stop me from going on that journey. I'll be damned if I let you lock me up in the mountain just because I'm bearing, now."

"There's a difference between locking you up and not wanting you to risk yourself needlessly."

"Yes, there is. It's called letting me have an actual choice instead of treating me like I'm the child. If you want me to stay, you'll stay, except we all know that won't happen, so stop grumbling and let's get going." Ori looked like he very much wanted to roll his eyes but was too polite to do so. "I'm doing a kindness to everyone else, sparing them from your whining while you miss me."

"He's not wrong," Gimli said with a chuckle. "I do seem to recall how just a couple of days ago a certain prince looked like someone had stolen his favourite knife because Ori had decided to spend the afternoon in the library."

"I did not." Somehow, though, Fíli's disagreement was lacking some of the previous vehemence. "And you're one to speak, all ready to ride off with just the two of you."

"Well, before you lot showed up, it was that or see him ride off to meet the goblins all on his own." Gimli gave an easy shrug, not looking terribly concerned. "Besides, maybe I just want an adventure of my own. And if his brother really is out there somewhere, I figure I'd better get off to a good start with him."

"If he is out there, he probably will be wondering why you're not wed yet, if I'm been correctly informed of elven ways." Kíli exchanged another smile with Tauriel, then grinned as Fíli finally got on his own pony. "Are we going, then?"

Now everyone turned to look at Legolas as though waiting for his cue. That somewhat surprised him, as so far the dwarves had seemed perfectly content to bicker among themselves and ignore him for the most part. Either way, he'd been leading a group often enough not to be too taken aback, straightening himself at the back of his horse. "We're leaving now," he said, keeping his tone as firm as he could. "Unless, of course, there are more dwarves waiting to join us?"

"Probably not, but we might want to leave anyway before someone decides to do so." Gimli chuckled. "And, really. You ought to know us dwarves well enough by now to realise it's next to impossible to only take along one."

"To be fair, I asked precisely no dwarves to come along." He spurred his horse on, now, and they started off, going at a leisurely pace for now. The rocky plain was not a good place to ride at speed, not unless they were aiming to wound their mounts.

"You told me when you'd leave, though, which really is much the same." Gimli shrugged, bringing his pony up to Legolas' side. "And as Ori said, I might wonder why you didn't."

Legolas sighed. "I don't suppose it would suffice to say I didn't want to put you in danger over my probably useless search?"

"Oh, no, that's not nearly enough." Gimli shook his head. "Now what would I do if you went and got yourself killed just like that? You might be immortal, but that doesn't mean you cannot die."

"You're right, of course." He lowered his voice. "To be honest, I'm not sure if we'll find anything, either. There's no telling if they ever had my brother in the first place, or if he yet lives if they did. But I… I cannot just forget about it. If there's even the slightest chance they've held him captive, I… I need to find out."

"Even if what you learn might not be so pleasant?" Gimli's voice was also quiet, an almost comforting rumble that probably didn't even reach those riding after them. "What if we make our way all the way to Misty Mountains, and fight any remaining goblins and such beasties, only to find he's long since been lost?"

"Then at least I will have that knowledge, and perhaps find something I might take home to my father for proof." Legolas paused. "I have not seen him in close to a century. I know that's not supposed to be a long time for our race, it certainly is not a large part of my life, and yet…"

"And yet that means I had not yet been born when you last met your brother." Gimli nodded. "I'm an only child, I won't claim to truly understand your love for your brother. But if that possibility is enough for you to ride out, then I can but follow and hope for the best. I just want you to be prepared for what might lie ahead."

"I am not sure I could ever be truly prepared for such news," Legolas murmured. "But I am aware that what awaits us might not be pleasant, if that is what you mean."

"That's all I can ask, I suppose." Gimli brought his pony closer, reaching out to touch him briefly. "Whatever happens, I'll be there."

"I know you will." And really, he did know that, had known it on some level even before Gimli had announced his plans to follow along. "And I truly am grateful for it. For your presence, and that of everyone else."

"Oh, don't say that yet," Gimli chuckled, no doubt trying to lighten the mood. "Wait until you've spent a few days with dwarven jokes and dwarven songs at every opportunity, then tell me if you're grateful or not."

"I've been living in a dwarven mountain for a while now, my dear dwarf. If that alone was enough to deter me, I would have run off ages ago."

This time, the smile Gimli offered him was definitely genuine. "Except I'd have chased you down, so you hardly would have gotten far."

He should have protested, really he should have, yet all Legolas could manage was give him a small, tentative smile back.

Perhaps this journey would not be as impossible as he had feared.

*

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Ori resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Fíli brought their ponies close once again. "I've already told you, Fíli, as long as you're going, I'm not turning back." Not that he was particularly keen on another chance to get himself killed in the goblin tunnels, but it was still better than sitting back home and wondering whether Fíli would return to him or not.

"I just want to make sure you're certain, that's all. I mean, once we get to Mirkwood, it won't be as easy to turn back."

"As though you would just send me back on my own anyway, even if I wanted it. And we both know I wouldn't ask you to turn back with me, so this discussion is useless either way." He offered his mate a soft smile. "I've told you, I rode out against a dragon before, Fíli. Another trip to Goblin Town is hardly any worse."

"Remind me what almost happened to you when we were last in Goblin Town."

"Except nothing happened." Ori sniffed, trying to feign nonchalance though he had to suppress a shudder. "None of us fared particularly well in that awful place, it's not like I got hurt any worse than the others, no matter what they might have planned. And this time I'm at least properly armed from the start." He'd managed to convince Dwalin to lend him his heavy war hammer, which was now a secure weight at his back. He could hardly call himself skilled in its use, but then, he had been assured that his skill or lack thereof mattered little when he had the strength to sink it deep into the enemy's skull, and that much at least he knew to be true.

"You could have at least borrowed my hammer instead," Fíli grumbled, and with that Ori knew the argument was over, at least for the moment. Now Fíli was just grumbling for the sake of doing so, and while that was hardly the best case he might have hoped for, it was still better than having him try to actually get Ori to turn back. It wasn't like he was going to be grumbling overly long, either. He gave Fíli until evening camp at the latest to come back to his side, making peace and speaking sweetly to the babe.

He was right, too, which was a pleasant conclusion. He didn't mind sleeping on the road overly much, for all that he had been quite spoilt by the softness of their shared bed back in Erebor, but he hadn't been too keen on the idea of braving the evening chill without Fíli's arms around him.

Mirkwood, Ori discovered, was not much more pleasant than the last time. At least now they didn't have to fear losing their way or starving, not with such distinguished company; Legolas did not even have to say anything for a few elves to greet them not long after they entered the forest, offering them company and protection for the way. Some other dwarves of their acquaintance might have grumbled at such offers, but none of them were quite so set in their ways as to turn down such a perfectly reasonable offer. They even managed to bring their mounts in this time, the elves assuring them they had spent the months since the battle hard at work making sure the road was safe to travel along once again now that the evil from the south was starting to wane.

Ori might have expected the elves to treat them with some wariness, but to his surprise, they were all perfectly civil, even to Ori and Fíli who had no claim to such welcome. Though then, he supposed those more opposed to dwarves would not have come to offer their help in the first place, no matter their loyalty to their prince. They seemed to have accepted Kíli as a somewhat shorter elf, though whether that was more for his marriage to Tauriel or his eagerness to show them his skill at the bow, Ori wasn't certain. Either way, they seemed to have no problem with Kíli whatsoever, so much so that a couple of times one of their guides even turned to speak to him in Elvish, as though forgetting it was not his language. It might have seemed a cruel jest if they had not always been quick to apologise for such oversight, except for the one time Kíli's rudimentary skills actually caught the gist of the message and he replied in kind, receiving a proud smile from Tauriel and surprised looks from the elves. Not as surprised as when he actually beat all of them save Legolas in a marksmanship contest after they had set up camp one night, but then, Ori supposed even the friendliest of elves might occasionally be surprised at the proof that dwarves could have such skills as well.

Gimli, of course, was the more interesting case.

At first the elves did not seem to be able to quite decide how they should view him, offering him neither the easy acceptance they did to Kíli nor the neutral politeness they directed at Ori and Fíli. From there their attitude towards him developed into something that could only be called confused, swinging from one extreme to another. Sometimes they appeared almost overly friendly, other times they seemed to pretend he didn't exist at all. Gimli himself was wary of these new elves at first, which then made way to wry amusement as he observed more of their behaviour during their trek through the forest.

"They're wary of me, see," Gimli told Ori one day as they were trailing near the end of their little party. "They know their prince claims me as a mate, so they ought to treat me properly as such, but I'm also not yet wed to him, and that confuses them. You and Fíli are dwarves, so you're easy, they'll be polite but leave you be and that will be just fine. Kíli is easy, too, he's wed to Tauriel so they can treat him as an elf, and while they might not know him as well as they do Tauriel and Legolas they've all met strange elves before and know how to make an acquaintance. But me, they can't count me as a dwarf while I bear the mark of their prince, and can't treat me as an elf when I've not been wed as I should. They might hope to keep their distance, then, except they can't do that without avoiding Legolas as well, and either way I might take offence at it."

"You know, you could just make this easier for all," Ori couldn't help teasing. "From what I understand, all you'd need to do is bed him and the elves would consider you married, just by that."

"Oh, that easy, is it?" Gimli snorted. "Why, yes, I'll just go and tumble him in the bushes while the rest of you wait, shall I? Or perhaps draw him to my bedroll at night, with you all snoring away not five feet from us, save for those who are on watch. No, I don't think that's quite worth it just to help the elves with their ridiculous problem."

"Hey, it was just a suggestion." Ori shrugged, then gave Gimli a small grin. "And I note you didn't say you don't want to."

"Should I have?" And, well, that was certainly the first time he'd heard Gimli being quite so open about the subject. "He is my mate, and not bad to look at once you get past the lack of beard and the frankly unnecessary height. And his hair, well! For that alone I would forgive quite the multitude of flaws."

"Sounds like a good start, at least." Ori chuckled at Gimli's enthusiasm. "I know what you mean about the hair. Fíli's is hardly as silky as that of an elf, but it's long and golden and so soft to the touch, I might almost think I'm playing with clouds and spiderwebs." He paused, considering. "Well, not quite like spiderweb. That is rather more sticky and much less pleasant to get my hands on."

"I'll take your word for that." Whatever else Gimli might have been about to say was cut off when Legolas called out to him, and his face all but lit up when he spurred his pony to make his way to his prince's side. Ori shook his head, amused. Oh, however reluctant Gimli might have been at first about his match, it was rather clear he had changed his mind somewhere along the way.

"You seem happy." And Fíli was smiling, too, as he brought his own pony to Ori's side in Gimli's stead. "Something especially nice going on?"

"I suppose you could say that." At Fíli's curious gaze, though, he shrugged. It wasn't his place to betray confidences, and really, if Fíli hadn't noticed it himself, he might not even believe him. "Just, something Gimli said got me thinking."

"Oh? About what?" And this, he liked this, the easy companionship and the cheerful smiles that seemed to come to Fíli as easily as his battle skills and the commanding tone of a prince. It was certainly better than overly worried Fíli.

"Mostly? About how much I like playing with your hair." Well, it was true enough.

Fíli grinned at that. "Perhaps when we next stop, you could comb and braid it? It's getting to be a little messy by now."

"Only if you promise to sing to me while I do." What? Clearly he was doing Fíli a favour here, he deserved to get a little something in return.

"I'm sure that can be arranged." Fíli rode close enough to reach for Ori's hand, bringing it up to his lips for a kiss. "Though if you'd like, I could certainly sing to you now, just to pass the time."

And if he'd thought before that Mirkwood was somewhat more pleasant when he had nothing to fear from spiders or starvation, well, the sound of Fíli singing at his side seemed to chase away the rest of the gloom entirely.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course, not everyone will go into the mountain. The ones left behind have a fairly easy time, while those delving into Goblin Town have to make rather more of an effort. In the end, though, Legolas reaches the prize he sought -- only to realize things might not be as simple as he would have thought.
> 
> Why would his brother, missing for nearly a century, know the names of two dwarven princes not yet in their eighties?

Of course, things weren't going to be easy and simple until the end.

It would have been nice if they did, but then, life was rarely nice, certainly not when one was on an adventure. As it was, they reached the mountains, and found their way near where they had exited the tunnels the last time. Fíli's and Gimli's stone sense was a great help in finding the tunnel entrances in the vast mountain side; Ori himself had never been too talented at such things, and Kíli downright admitted he found his way better outside the mountain. Perhaps it shouldn't have been such a surprise that the other half of his soul was an elf, after all.

Now that they finally stood in front of the last step of their journey, though, everyone dismounting and shouldering their essential gear, there was one last obstacle to get over.

"Someone will have to stay with the ponies." Fíli grimaced as soon as he'd said this, as though expecting a lot of protests. "I mean, the tunnels are vast, it might take us days to find anything. We can't just tie them up here and hope they'll be here when we get back."

"Aye, that is sensible." Gimli nodded solemnly. "Only, that would mean we have to decide who's to go in."

"Tauriel and I should go, at least," Legolas said, though Ori imagined he sounded almost reluctant. He supposed it was somewhat understandable. Tauriel's belly was starting to get visibly round now, much like Ori's own, not enough to be truly in the way yet but enough that it was impossible not to notice. "If he is in there, he'll need someone he can recognise."

"I'll be with you." Tauriel nodded. "It would hardly do any good for him to be faced with nothing but armed dwarves, if he's been held prisoner for so long."

"Who's going to stay with the animals, then?" Gimli patted his own pony soothingly. "I'm going in, mind. If my mate's going to save his brother, I ought to be going along."

"I don't think anyone was planning to stop you, my love." Legolas reached out to touch Gimli's shoulder. It was nice to see that they were more open about their affection now. At least the time on the road had given them that, even if this turned out to be a hopeless case otherwise.

Ori wondered if he could somehow arrange for them to have the privacy Gimli was hoping for to truly claim his mate as his own.

"I'll stay." Ori was somewhat surprised to realise Kíli had been the one to speak up, though he'd been quiet so far. He'd half expected him to speak up when it was decided that Tauriel should go inside, either to protest or to insist that he should go with her. "I'm better with my bow than my sword, anyway, and it'll be more useful out here than in the tunnels. Should probably have someone out here with me, though, if you can handle the tunnels with only four."

"Ah. I'll stay with you." Ori licked his lips, trying not to feel nervous. "I'm the least skilled fighter, anyway, and I suppose we're less likely to find battle out here, so it's better to take the best fighters inside. And anyway, my stone sense is worse than either Fíli's or Gimli's, and you ought to have people who can navigate easily in the mountain." He noted that Fíli looked relieved, but at least he hadn't tried to insist on Ori staying.

"Sounds like a plan to me." Kíli flashed his brother a grin. "How about it, Fíli, an even trade? You look after my mate in the tunnels and I look after yours out here."

Fíli chuckled. "Careful, or they'll just leave us both out here to show that they can look after themselves." He walked over to Ori, then, leaning down to kiss him softly. "See that my brother doesn't go wandering off, all right? You know he's easily distracted."

"I'll do that if you promise not to get lost in the tunnels." Ori managed a smile, though his heart clenched at the thought of Fíli being back in Goblintown, in that horrid, smelly place where they might have died if not for Gandalf. "And please try and stay out of trouble, I doubt there's sudden rescue about to appear this time around."

"We'll do our best." Fíli touched the side of his face, fingers softly stroking his beard. "I'll be back, I promise."

"I'll trust you on that." It was the only thing he could do, anyway.

There was another moment as Kíli and Tauriel said their own goodbyes, and those heading inside made sure they had all the gear they might need, knowing it might take them a while to find their goal inside the twisting tunnels. At last, though, Kíli and Ori were left alone with the mounts, watching the others disappear into the mountain.

Ori didn't realise he'd made a sound before Kíli's hand settled on his shoulder. "He'll be all right, you know," Kíli said, though his gaze was also locked on the mountain. Ori wondered if he wasn't trying to convince himself as much as he was Ori. "Fíli's the best fighter Thorin has after Dwalin, and that's not by much. It'll take more than the remnants of a goblin kingdom to keep him from returning to you."

"I know that." And he did, had admired Fíli's fighting skills far too often not to be aware of that. "And I know this isn't anything like last time, when we were taken by surprise and lost our weapons and such. It's just… it's still not easy to see him go in there, you know?"

"Believe me, I know." Kíli gave him a lopsided smile. "Remember who was the second youngest when we last passed through here."

"Right." Ori sighed and then shook himself. "Well! We'll probably be here some time, and the others will definitely need some rest once they come out, unless they're chased out running again and I do hope that won't happen. How about we set up a camp and then settle down for the wait?"

"Sounds like a plan." Kíli nodded. "How about I take care of the ponies, and you see to the camp? You're better at lighting a fire, anyway."

"That works for me." Ori couldn't resist a little grin, though. "Do make sure not to misplace any of the ponies, though."

"That was one time! Also, Fíli was there, too. Maybe you should be worried about him losing the child?"

"Well, I would hope one child would be a lot easier to keep count of than all our ponies." Ori chuckled. "Besides, judging by how he fusses over my belly already, I rather doubt he'll be letting the baby out of his sight any time soon."

Kíli nodded solemnly. "Oh, aye. He'll be the worst, and I'm saying that having seen Thorin and knowing my own heart."

It didn't take them too long to get a nice little camp set up, which was something of a relief. Ori wasn't about to complain, but he was quite exhausted, and it wasn't even that late in the day. He sat down next to the little fire he'd built as Kíli started to dig through their packs for some food. Ori stretched his legs in front of him, rubbing at his stomach.

"What is it like?"

Ori blinked, not sure he understood the question. "What is what like?"

Kíli motioned toward his rounded belly. "That. Having a baby inside you. I've tried asking Tauriel but she just says it's not something she can describe."

Ori chuckled. "I'm afraid I can't give a much better answer than that. For the longest while I wasn't even sure there was anything in here, I just had to trust in the signs." Such as the horrible, horrible morning sickness. Óin had said his had been a particularly bad case, which wasn't exactly comforting.

"You mean you can't, I don't know, feel it inside you?" Kíli frowned. "I thought that was a whole thing, babies kicking and such."

"Oh, I can feel that now, though it's still a bit early to tell from the outside." As though to confirm his words, the baby decided to move, a tiny little flutter of movement deep within him. "However, until just recently the child was still too small for even me to feel. It's not really even kicks yet; just tiny little brushes, is more like it."

"That must be exciting." Kíli grinned. "I'm really kind of jealous, you know. I can't wait until I can feel our baby kick, but Tauriel says it usually takes a while for elves."

"Hasn't stopped Fíli so far." Ori chuckled. "He's constantly trying to feel the baby, even though I keep telling him it's probably not possible yet. The talking, too! He actually kept asking the baby about its opinions on names."

"So you've talked about names already, too?" Kíli grinned. "Can I ask what you've picked, or is it a secret?"

"I suppose it would be better to share them early on than have one of us steal a name from the other." Not that he thought there was much of a chance of that happening. "If it's a girl, we're going to call her Vuori, for my mother. And if it's a boy… well." He grinned. "We were thinking of Kíri, for a boy."

"Really?" Kíli's eyes widened. "That's…"

"It only seems fair." Ori smiled. "It's half his brother, half mine."

"Either way, I'm honoured." Kíli flashed him a grin. "We're thinking Tuli for a boy, for my father. And if it's a girl, Tarin, with the beginning for Tauriel and the end for Durin's line."

"They're good names." Ori nodded, then grinned. "It's good to know we won't be fighting over names."

Kíli laughed. "Aye, and also good that neither of our children is likely to turn out to be two, like happened with Bilbo and Thorin. Wouldn't that be a surprise!"

"Well, to be fair, Bilbo did keep saying there would be two." Ori chuckled. "That seems a big task, bearing two children instead of just the one. I'm glad it's him instead of me."

"It can't be that big of a deal, now can it? I mean, I'm not saying it's an easy thing, bearing a child," Kíli hurried to say the moment Ori as much as twitched his eyebrows upwards. "Just, even he wasn't entirely sure, was he? So clearly it couldn't be that different from bearing one."

"Well, in any case, I'm sure we'll have our hands quite full with just one at first." Ori shook his head in amusement. "Just wait until all four cousins will be big enough to actually get around on their own, and we'll be very busy indeed."

Kíli laughed. "Oh, that'll be fun, just wait and see. It'll be like Fíli and me all over again, except twice as many and closer in age."

"Oh, Mahal save us all when that happens." Ori smiled, though, rubbing a hand over his belly. Somewhere deep within, the baby stirred, rewarding his attention with the slightest of flutters against him.

Now he just had to wait for Fíli to return so they could get back to the mountain and have little Kíri or Vuori in safety.

He just hoped they could get away from here without any more of a crisis.

*

Legolas did not like these tunnels.

It wasn't that he minded being under a mountain in general. A lot of elves might have, would have thought it terrible for him to be so nonchalant about the matter, but he had grown up in Thranduil's court, where stone archways and pillars were as familiar to him as the shade of trees outside. He preferred the outdoors to be sure, but he had no particular dislike for cool stone and weighty ceilings above his head. And now, during what passed for his courtship of Gimli, he had spent most of his time in and around Erebor. A mountain was absolutely no problem.

This, however, was not the palace of the Elvenking, nor even the halls of Erebor, once glorious and now slowly being brought out of their ruin by countless hard-working dwarves. There were no delicate walkways or breathtaking caverns decorated with heart and skill both, no smooth stone polished to a shine that almost rivalled the gems glinting in the shadows. These were dark, dank tunnels, uneven and ugly, and he could almost feel the desperation and pain of those who had carved out each inch from the mountain, where they had not simply spread out into spaces carved out by time and water like so much vermin.

He touched Gimli's arm, at one point, and immediately a hand sought his, steady and strong. He could tell Gimli shared his distaste, could feel it radiating from every cell of his beloved dwarf's body, yet Gimli was trying to be strong for Legolas' sake. Legolas couldn't help but wonder what this mountain seemed like to Gimli's dwarven senses, which he knew from their discussions could find strong stone and weaknesses alike. Was this as unpleasant to the dwarves as a sick tree was to him? Was Gimli less shaken by the rough tunnels or did they offend him even more for his actual expertise in the matter?

They followed the tunnel along to the next crossroads, Fíli walking first with a small torch that Legolas suspected was mostly for his and Tauriel's benefit. Dwarves might not have been able to see far in complete darkness, for all that they needed much less light than elves, but they could no doubt have found their way by the feel of the stone alone. Now, Fíli paused, gaze directed down one dark tunnel as Gimli came to his side, frowning toward another. There seemed to be some sort of silent conversation between the two as they shifted on their feet, Gimli resting a hand on a nearby wall for further confirmation.

"The nearest life is this way," Fíli said, nodding down one tunnel. "That's what we're looking for, right? If there are prisoners, they are in the town proper, and we'll find that by seeking the goblins."

"Right." Legolas nodded. "Can you tell exactly how close they are, or how many there are? I was thinking we might try to take them by surprise to get some information."

Gimli and Fíli again glanced at each other. "The nearest ones down that way are two or three, and on the move," Gimli said then. "A patrol, if I'd have to guess, or perhaps a hunting party; certainly not the best choice for such purposes. However, the general concentration of life is certainly down that way, so the direction is right even if we might have to wait for a more suitable target."

"That sounds sensible." Tauriel nodded, a blade in each hand. She did not seem comfortable in the tunnels either, constantly glancing around for all that they were surrounded by nothing but dark stone. Legolas at least had his mate by his side, while she had no such comfort to draw from.

They needed to hurry, for all of their sakes.

They moved more quietly now, none saying a word as Fíli led them further into the mountain, halting them a few times to let someone pass further along the way. Legolas was rather surprised by how softly the dwarves could move when needed, not quite as silent as elves or even a hobbit but certainly nothing like their usual stomping. They seemed to move with a certain ease even in these sick tunnels, this diseased mountain that was so different from their home. It made Legolas feel a little more secure, no matter how unpleasant he found the situation.

For the first time since they'd entered the tunnels, he almost felt hopeful that their search was not in vain.

It was a long shot, he knew as much. There was no doubt in his mind that the ring that had been found belonged to his brother, but anything beyond that was guesswork and mad hopes at best. It was entirely possible that the ring had been stolen and passed down a number of foul creatures, or indeed that his brother might have been once captured and then brought down at once, the goblin lying about his survival in the hopes of making itself more valuable and perhaps having its life spared. And even if none of that applied, even if indeed his brother had been a prisoner in the foul mountain all these decades, there was no telling he would still live when they reached him. The goblins were few and much suffered now, their leader lost and most of their population gone. He doubted they had much food to spare for a useless prisoner, or perhaps even the discipline left to keep some random goblin from taking its frustration out on a helpless captive.

No. He would not think of such things, not yet. He hadn't given up hope before now, he wasn't about to do so now that they might be close to an end in his search.

Legolas wasn't entirely sure how long they kept wandering along the tunnels. He did know that at some point they passed along some dried meat, eating and drinking from their water skins in complete silence. They took turns holding the torch, now, with Legolas and Tauriel often taking it so Gimli and Fíli were free to focus on their stone sense. Every now and then they would have conversations in Iglishmêk, sharing their observations without a sound until one of them turned this into one or two simpler signs that Legolas and Tauriel knew as as well. Wait, or safe, or danger, or silence, they followed each word without question.

Legolas wondered what his father would have said about him obeying a dwarf so readily. He then wondered why he cared either way.

The tunnels weren't exactly teeming with life, though their dwarven companions assured them there were others inside the mountain besides them. Every now and then Legolas caught some signs of them as well, even heard someone passing along further down the tunnels. At last they managed to ambush a lonely goblin on its own, taking it captive before it could raise an alarm or indeed make any sound at all. They retreated some distance back, then, finding a quiet corner where they actually dared to make a sound.

"Well, then, my stinking little friend." Legolas crouched down in front of the goblin, Gimli holding it still in his strong grip while Tauriel and Fíli stood guard in a rather intimidating display. "I have some questions for you. If you answer them all to my satisfaction, I'll reward you with your life." And he would, too. He was not like his father in that, for all that he was no admirer of goblins in general.

"Elfling," the goblin spat, its accent grating his ears but understandable at least. "You're far from home, aren't you? And in strange company."

"That I am." Legolas nodded, not rising to the bait. "But I think you know why I am here, don't you?"

"The prisoner." And yes, his heart did leap at that simple word. "You're here for the elf."

"That would be the case, yes." Legolas nodded, trying not to show his excitement. He felt more than saw Tauriel shifting a little, her full attention now on the pitiful little creature. Gimli didn't move at all, though, his grasp as certain as ever. "We know he's held here, it's only his exact location we don't know."

"He's in the dungeons, of course!" The goblin still seemed hostile, but Legolas didn't think it was lying. It was too focused on making it out alive, and besides, he doubted it had the imagination for lies. "It's near where the river drops, nice and dank and miserable!"

Fíli spoke up now, pressing for further details, but as Legolas met Gimli's eyes over the goblin's shoulder, his mate nodded. Yes, they could find the river and its fall if need be, even if the rest of the directions proved to be false.

Legolas was as good as his word, sparing the goblin's life. They did tie it up, of course, firm enough it couldn't free itself or run off to raise an alarm, but left it near a tunnel that seemed to be frequented often enough others would find it before long. Which meant, of course, that they had little time to spare.

"I must apologise, my mate," Legolas told Gimli as they strode along following their new directions. "I cannot imagine how I ever compared you to such a creature, even in insult over a drawn likeness. Truly, there is nothing in you that might remind me of a goblin."

"Except my shorter stature, you mean." Gimli snorted. "Oh, aye, I'm well aware I'm more pleasant to look at than those things, even for an elf. You might not have much of a taste for a beard, but you at least know the value of good hair, and those things seem to have none at all."

"Oh, I don't know." Legolas offered him a small smile, the best he could do with the growing tension in his heart. "I find I'm growing rather fond of your beard, actually."

"Well, that's a pleasant thought." Gimli grinned at him, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder before he hurried forward as Fíli motioned for him from the head of their little party, ready to assist his cousin in reading their way from the stone.

The next moment Tauriel was at his side, her expression not wavering one bit even as she spoke, voice low enough that Legolas doubted either of the dwarves could hear her. "Do not get your hopes up," she reminded him, as though she needed to. "Even if indeed there is an elf, and that elf lives, it might still not be your brother."

"I know." He nodded minutely. "However, unlike my father, I refuse to give up hope until I know it to be in vain. I know he fears the pain that disappointment might bring, and that is why he will not hope, but I fear the loss even more. And if there is another here that we might rescue, well, I know my brother would rather see us do so in his name than stay away for our lack of certainty."

"He would." She nodded. "Just keep it in mind."

"I couldn't well forget."

There were more tunnels, yet, and more signs of life. They did manage to avoid the busiest tunnels, but a few times they had to hide away to avoid attracting the attention of a patrol. Legolas was not exactly fond of the tactic, wishing he could just attack all who stood between him and his brother, and saw that the rest of his party rather shared his sentiment. However, that would have been folly indeed. The numbers of goblins might have been greatly reduced by the battle, and many of those remaining were injured or otherwise less than credible threats, but their sheer numbers made a direct confrontation an unwise plan. Besides, if indeed they found his brother or some other prisoner, they would no doubt be much weakened by their time in the goblin dungeons. The longer they avoided detection, the better their chances of actually making it out of the mountain without any significant losses.

He had not come this far only to buy a life with another.

One tunnel or cavern looked very much the same as the last in his eyes, yet their dwarven friends seemed sure enough in their direction, rarely hesitating more than a moment at any crossroads. All Legolas could tell was that they were going ever lower, and that the air was growing damp.

Where the river drops. Whatever the truth of the goblin's words was, at least the directions seemed reliable.

Legolas paused as they came out into a large cavern where indeed a stream came tumbling down a long cascade of stone before settling into its new path down below. With some skilled workers it could have been beautiful, he mused, a natural wonder brought to new heights by passionate hearts and patient hands. Instead all they had was rough stone and damp rocks, and a narrow path meandering down deeper into the mountain.

He would have been lying if he'd denied the bad case of nerves that very nearly seized him when they approached the heavy door at the edge of the cavern.

Gimli noticed this, of course, just as he noticed many things Legolas would have thought to be well beyond his care or attention. He drew closer to Legolas, not saying a word even as his hand found its way to the small of Legolas' back, touching only for a moment before falling away again.

"It will be fine," Gimli murmured. "Whatever we find in there, it will be fine. And whatever it is, I will be right there beside you."

"I know you will. And believe me, I draw great strength from that knowledge." Legolas managed a small smile as Fíli made tiny sound as he managed to get the door to open. "Shall we face the truth, then?"

If the rest of the tunnels had been unpleasant, the dungeons were even worse. Not that his father's cells were exactly something he might have spent time in for a lark, but for all that he might not have been a great admirer of his captives Thranduil did at least make sure that they did not die of poor treatment. Legolas rather doubted the goblins were as careful with those they imprisoned, and the state of the dungeons confirmed his suspicions.

There were several cells in the space they came to, most of them empty yet still filthy with old dirt and trash. The corridor between the cells was dark and narrow, the bars at each door rusty and falling apart in some parts. He noted Fíli and Gimli both tutting and shaking their heads at such poor workmanship as they walked past, and in any other situation it might have made him smile. Now, though, he was too tense to do anything except stride along, peering into each cell in hopes of finding what he sought.

When he finally found his target, he very nearly missed it.

The cell didn't look very different from the others, the bars in somewhat better condition but the stench and filth all the same. Legolas almost didn't realise it was occupied at all, until what he might have thought a pile of rags in the corner shifted. He froze at the door, peering into the shadows. Then Tauriel caught up to him with her torch, casting more light into the squalid little cell, and the prisoner looked up.

It was Tulcas. He was thin and filthy, his clothes nothing but rags and his hair a matted mess, but Legolas would have known his eyes anywhere. For a moment all he got was a blank gaze, and he thought in a moment of terror that his brother might not recognise him at all, that they were already too late. Then, however, there was a small sound, and then Tulcas was scampering up to trembling feet.

"Legolas?" Tulcas was supporting himself against the wall as he shuffled closer, and oh, it pained his heart so to see his brother in such a state. "Is that you? Or have I fallen prey to some fancy?" His voice was rough, no doubt unused for much civil conversation. His eyes, though, were sharp as ever as they met Legolas', for all that they were glazed over with exhaustion and pain.

"It is me, yes." He swallowed, resting one hand on the bars between them. "I came to rescue you."

"Oh, you foolish thing," Tulcas breathed. "You never thought of the mountain of goblins between us?"

"Not so much an entire mountain, now." Tauriel came up to Legolas side as well, her voice barely concealing her own relief and grief both at finding Tulcas but only in such a poor condition. "A lot of them were lost to a battle just recently, which is how we managed to make our way here without much trouble."

"And Tauriel! You look well, my friend." Tulcas paused, his gaze dropping down to the soft curve of her belly. "Very well, I see."

"Well indeed, yes." Tauriel managed a small smile. "There is a lot to tell, but all that can wait until we have you out of this horrid place."

"Ah, yes. About that." Tulcas leaned heavily against the bars. "I'm not sure I've the strength to make it out, even if you could get this thing open."

"Oh, that won't be a problem." Fíli sounded somewhat distracted, his focus more on the stone surrounding the cell door than the actual prisoner. "We'll get you out soon enough between Gimli and myself, and after that I'm sure we'll get you out of here, even if we might have to take turns bearing you."

"Dwarves?" Tulcas sounded almost amused as he noticed the rest of their party. "I've got to say, I did sometimes imagine a rescue, yet you joining together with dwarves never entered my imaginings."

"Many things are different than they were a century ago, brother." Legolas glanced at Gimli, smiling as he found his mate likewise focused on the study of the cell's structure. "I'll have to introduce you to my mate, for one thing."

"And is he the one who put those braids in your hair?" Tulcas had noticed, then? Though then, Legolas supposed a dwarven courting braid was quite different from his usual simpler styles. "I expect quite the excellent story when we're out of here, little brother."

"Oh, a story you'll get, all right." Gimli frowned at a spot in the stone, tugging at the bars experimentally. "First, though, let us get you out of here."

It very quickly turned out that two dwarves, even two who did not count stonecrafting or even blacksmithing as their main craft, were more than match enough for aged goblin creations. Legolas worried at first that they might take too long, yet Tulcas assured him that guards were not often seen as of late. This wasn't entirely a glad thought, as it confirmed what he had already feared of the neglect his brother must have been experiencing, but it helped him not to get too afraid as Gimli and Fíli came to the consensus that they ought to attack the stone rather than the bars themselves. This approach seemed to work, too, as they were soon prying open the gate after detaching the lock itself from the stone surrounding the doorway.

Tulcas was indeed in poor condition, sagging against Legolas when he settled an arm around his brother. However, he seemed determined to at least try to make his own way, struggling for each new step with sheer stubbornness rather than any lingering strength.

They did not make it terribly far until it became clear Tulcas would need to be carried most of the way. Legolas picked him up into his arms without a word, trying not to think too much on the situation or the way his brother was so terribly light. Perhaps if he pretended everything was all right, it would make things more so.

They still went slowly, trying to avoid fights even more now that they had Tulcas to look after. Tauriel took care of the torch, with Legolas, Fíli and Gimli each taking turns at carrying Tulcas. None of them said much, focusing all their attention on making it out safe.

By the time they got near the end of the tunnels, having managed to fight their way through a couple of small groups of goblins and avoid the rest, Legolas noticed that the dwarves were clearly battling exhaustion themselves. He couldn't blame them, really. From what little he could tell, they had been underground at least a day or more, yet they couldn't stop for a moment's rest. There would be time for that when they got out and into a well-guarded camp, not when they were still fleeing the goblins.

He had never been so glad for the feeling of fresh air on his face as when they finally stumbled out of the mountain.

It was dark, though he was not sure of the exact time of day. However, even in the darkness it was clear enough where they ought to go. There was a small light further down the side of the mountain, and he could make out a small figure seated at the side of the campfire, imagined he might also see the one sleeping beside the first and the shadows of ponies nearby. Kíli and Ori, and their camp.

"We're here," he murmured to his brother, currently held in his arms. He'd lost consciousness briefly earlier, much to Legolas' distress, but was awake now again, probably mostly because he willed himself to be. "We're safe now. You're safe."

Kíli sprang to his feet long before they reached the circle of light at the campsite, aiming out into the darkness with his bow. Legolas was quite relieved to know they were not his enemies. Somehow he had the feeling a dwarf would have had little trouble aiming and loosing an arrow in the dark. They were in no danger here, though. None of them were. His brother was safe at last, was going to be just fine as soon as they had him healed of all the damage his harsh conditions had left him in.

Fíli made what sounded like a bird call, and Kíli relaxed instantly, his bow dropping just a bit. "Brother? You're back? All of you?"

"And more than you left us with." Fíli managed a grin as he walked closer to the camp site, the others following after him. Tauriel immediately hurried to the side of her dwarf, and Legolas noticed Fíli glancing at Ori's sleeping form before he turned back to his brother. "We had an extra bedroll packed with our supplies, didn't we? Probably shouldn't be putting the elf prince down on the cold ground, not when we've gone to so much trouble getting him out of that horrid place."

"Right!" Kíli set aside his bow, only stealing a quick kiss from Tauriel before he hurried over to their supplies. Legolas shifted Tulcas' weight in his arms, waiting to have somewhere to settle him.

"And more dwarves," Tulcas murmured. "I'll say, little brother, you've made quite surprising choices."

"Not so surprising when we've found our mates in them, Tauriel and I both." Legolas smiled a little. He supposed now was as good a time as any for some introductions. "I know we rather passed by details such as names before, but there seems to be time for that now. The red-haired dwarf is Gimli, son of Glóin, my soulmate and my betrothed. We're not yet married, because dwarven ways are complicated at times, but he has at least indicated that he is willing."

"Aye." Gimli appeared at their side, looking almost amused at the topic. "The dark-haired one without much of a beard is Kíli, Tauriel's husband, and the one with golden hair who was in the mountain with us is his brother Fíli. His husband Ori would be the one stirring to wakefulness right now."

Legolas realised that Tulcas had gone terribly still all of a sudden. He frowned, shifting his weight again. "Brother? Is something wrong?"

"Fíli?" Tulcas echoed the word as though he could hardly believe it. "And Kíli? Not sons of Dís?"

Gimli frowned now as well. "Aye. Fíli and Kíli, sons of Dís and Tuli, their uncle's finest warriors and heirs under the mountain." His gaze met Legolas', and Legolas was quite certain they both felt the same chilling suspicion seeping through their bones.

His brother had been missing for nearly a century, with no elf having any knowledge of him since he'd last passed through Rivendell until now that they'd found him again. Fíli and Kíli were both younger than that, neither of them even eighty years old yet. Why, then, did Tulcas not only recognise their names, but knew the name of their mother as well?

Tulcas made a wounded sound, and for all that he'd been without much strength before, now he seemed to crumble into pieces in Legolas' arms. Legolas might have been alarmed, even, except the little hitch of breath was not one of distress. Rather, he knew precisely what he would hear even before the quiet words reached his ears.

"My little boys," Tulcas murmured, his voice nearly breaking over the words. "My sweet little sons…"

This seemed to take the last of his strength, as he then fell silent, so still and quiet Legolas might have panicked if he hadn't still been clearly breathing. As he lifted his gaze from Tulcas he found himself face to face with Kíli, who was staring at Legolas' brother in shock, the extra bedroll clutched in his arms. Fíli at least seemed still oblivious, kneeling next to the stirring Ori.

Well. This was going to be a fine mess to sort out, to be sure.

And yet he couldn't feel anything but elated.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the new revelation, there's a lot to talk about -- even things people such as Ori might not have even known about. Kíli's not wasting time worrying about the matter, though. He has a father now, and his mother seems to be happy as well, which is all that he cares about.
> 
> Now if Dáin could just keep from making any more smart-ass comments, Thorin would appreciate it. He's got a wedding to see to, some eighty years late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, since I don't think I mentioned it before in this fic -- of the two names, Tuli is Finnish for "fire", while Tulcas is from the Quenyan word for "steadfast". (Which is apparently also the name of a Vala, which the name list I used didn't bother to mention. Well, Thranduil never was one for modesty.)

"Is it even possible?"

Kíli shook his head from the other side of the campfire. "I really couldn't tell." There was a tense look around his eyes, one that Legolas assumed was a mixture of tiredness and nerves. The same look was reflected on his brother's face, exhausted yet too tightly wired to go to sleep.

Legolas had tried to insist he could stand guard while everyone else slept, had pointed out that Kíli had just done a shift on guard and Fíli was exhausted from their trip through the mountain. However, only Gimli and Tauriel had taken him up on his offer. He tried not to feel too worried about the way Tauriel slept, her eyes closed in true unconsciousness. It was only expected at this point, with the pregnancy and physical strain both tiring her beyond her usual limits. Gimli was less worrisome, snoring away in a manner Legolas might have found worth teasing if he hadn't been so preoccupied by other matters.

Fíli nodded, his gaze fixed on the fire. "Kíli was only a year old when we lost him. He wouldn't remember much, even I don't, not really." He glanced up at Legolas, now. "From what our mother has told us, we lived away from any city or settlement, so when an orc raid came, we were alone. They tried to fight, but our father told her to flee with us. When she finally managed to return, she found no trace of him save blood."

"After searching, she was finally forced to accept he was gone." Kíli glanced at Tauriel's sleeping form as though terrified by the mere thought. "She returned to Ered Luin after that, and raised us together with Uncle Thorin."

"And you don't know why she was living elsewhere in the first place." It, well. It certainly didn't contradict the idea. "So you don't remember anything about your father? Anything at all?"

"I —" Fíli began, then hesitated. After a moment's thought, he shook his head. "I don't remember much, not really," he murmured. "I was only six at the time, and it's been a while. What I do remember, though…" He paused. "He was tall. So very tall, taller than our mother. I used to climb on him, it was so exciting to be up high. And he had golden hair."

"It all works out." Ori was leaning against Fíli's shoulder, but he seemed awake enough. "I mean, we don't have any evidence that it's true, we can't until he wakes up and we can ask him for details, but nothing that we do know seems to indicate that it isn't true."

"Right." Legolas shook his head. "I've been thinking, and — I honestly can't tell you if he might have a dwarven soulmark. I know he's my brother, and we're not far apart in age, but he's always been somewhat private. I can't remember that he had a mark, but it's entirely possible I just never saw him shirtless in his adult years." Of course, he could have just checked, now, but he didn't particularly wish to jostle his brother while Tulcas slept off his exhaustion.

"I was thinking about that, too." Kíli looked at Legolas, and somehow he seemed even younger than usual. "I — I thought it couldn't be true, because, you know, our mother has a dwarven soulmark? So her soulmate must have been a dwarf. But then I realised… well. She's also got a mark on her chest, a smaller one over her heart. She always said that was a tattoo, but what if it was the other way around? What if that's her soulmark and she got a tattoo on her back so nobody would suspect anything strange?"

"Could be." Fíli shook his head. "I thought it was a bit weird that she wasn't even surprised about your mark. I mean, it could just be that she had time to come to terms with it from Thorin's letters, but it was still really easy acceptance from the start."

"Well, speculating won't get us anywhere, and he's clearly not in a state to answer our questions right now." Ori sat up straighter, nudging Fíli. "You both should get some sleep. The sooner we get away from the mountains, the better, and we wouldn't want you falling off your ponies, now would we?"

Legolas nodded. "We'll set off as soon as my brother has woken up and eaten something." What little they dared to let him eat, anyway; giving him too much was a sure recipe for getting it all coming back up again, considering he had probably been quite undernourished for a while. "He probably can't ride on his own right away, but that doesn't matter. My horse can easily bear two, so we'll get on the road soon."

"You should get some more sleep, too." Fíli frowned at Ori. "It's not good for you not to get enough rest."

"I promise you, I've been doing nothing more strenuous than some knitting while you were in the mountain, and I'd already slept plenty tonight when you showed up." Ori nudged his mate. "Now, get some sleep. I swear I'll join you if I start feeling tired."

"As long as you do that." Fíli leaned in to steal a quick kiss. "You shouldn't exhaust yourself, either."

"I promise I won't." Ori smiled, lifting the knitting work in his hands to show it to his mate. "I'll just sit here and keep Legolas company."

It took another moment for Fíli to get to sleep, whereas Kíli settled down next to Tauriel rather quickly. Legolas was quiet, listening to the sounds of the camp, sleeping breaths and the crackling of the fire and the soft click of Ori's needles against each other.

"You haven't said much about what you think about this."

Ori's voice startled him, breaking the silence all of a sudden. He looked up, finding the dwarf looking at him curiously over the fire. His needles didn't stop, knitting along. Legolas wasn't entirely sure what he was making, but it wasn't very big. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You've been rather quiet about all this. I mean, obviously you were talking about it earlier, but I still have no idea what you think about the possibility."

"It is all taking a while to sink in, I suppose. I was not sure if my brother was dead or alive for nearly a century, and now not only do I have him back, there is a good chance I am actually an uncle." And wasn't that a thought. "What about you?"

"Me?" Ori frowned. "What's this got to do with me? I mean, obviously anything that affects Fíli matters to me as well, but I hardly think my opinion will make much of a difference either way."

"It does change things for you, though." Legolas shook his head. "If this is true, that means your mate is half elven. Does that change the way you think of him? Would you see him differently, feel differently about him?"

"Should I?" Ori tilted his head to the side. "It doesn't change who he is, does it? I love Fíli, son of Dís; it hardly matters to me who his father was, nor does that change my love for him. I'm glad for him to be sure, if he now has both his parents alive, and I'll support him since this will probably bring some changes that might not all be easy. Is there a reason I should care?"

"Perhaps not immediately. You are right, any direct influence that his blood might have on him is already present." Such as his height, perhaps, or his hair, which was certainly unusually light for a dwarf. "However, there are other matters that might not be so readily apparent."

"And what would those be?" Now, Ori set his knitting down in his lap, giving Legolas his full attention.

"It is… well." Legolas sighed. "Those who have both elven blood and mortal may make a choice. No, they must make it, their blood demands it." He shook his head again, briefly glancing over to where Gimli slept on. If they ever had children, those children would face the same choice. "No one can be both mortal and not. Any mortal with elven blood, or indeed an elf with mortal blood, must choose which path they wish to follow."

"You mean… they could choose to be immortal." Ori's voice was surprisingly calm for someone discussing such momentous things.

"Exactly." Legolas nodded. "It may not seem like it matters much; after all, you have already known that Kíli will share Tauriel's lifespan. I would imagine both Kíli and all those around him have already accepted that he will outlive all his family, save perhaps for their children. And yet… if he chooses the immortal path, it may well be that he will never join them again, not even in death."

"You think that's possible? That the paths cannot meet even in death?"

"So say the stories." And oh, he ached to even think of such.

"That can't be." The fierceness in Ori's voice surprised him. "I refuse to believe that the Valar would have marked souls in such a manner. What of Dís and her husband, then, or you and Gimli? Your souls are linked, two halves of a whole. How would it be possible for you to be parted?"

"I am only saying what I have heard." Though then, there were very few stories of couples where one was mortal and the other was not where the Valar had not intervened in some manner.

"In any case, it hardly matters to me." Ori rubbed a hand over his rounded belly. "I'll live my life with Fíli, however long it may be, and when that time runs out, I'd like to see the force who thinks they could part us again."

"It could be longer than you think, though." Legolas forced himself to smile. "Even if he chooses the mortal path, those with elven blood tend to live longer than others of their race. I would not be surprised if he lived twice as long as the average dwarf, or three times, if no blade claims his life first. And you will share those years, being his mate."

"Then that is all the more years for me to share with him." Ori was quiet for a moment. "I'm not saying it's not scary, the thought of living so much longer than all my friends and family," he said, his voice low enough that even Legolas' elven ears had trouble hearing him. "And yet, Fíli is my other half, my One. If I outlive my family, I will mourn them, but I will be content in my knowledge that we will meet again in the Halls."

"I wish I had your confidence." It would have made things so much easier. "I have no such faith, no knowledge of whether I will lose Gimli forever the moment death claims him."

"Then that's all the more reason to hold onto him tight now that he is here, is it not?" Ori tilted his head. "But these are rather grave matters, and probably not something we ought to be discussing so late at night. Would you be terribly offended if we spoke of something lighter?"

"Such as?" He certainly didn't mind a change of topic. He had little desire to dwell on the possibility that he might one day be parted from his dwarf, when he had not even won Gimli over properly, yet.

"Oh, there are some things I could think of." Ori gave him a small grin. "Such as what your father will say if he hears that not only does he have two grandsons, but he actually threw them in the dungeons the first time they visited his palace?"

That startled a laugh out of Legolas, loud enough that he had to glance around to make sure he hadn't woken up any of their companions. However, everyone else appeared to still be deep in slumber, and he turned back to Ori to find him wearing a mischievous smile. "That is an interesting thought, all right." Legolas allowed his own lips to twitch into a smile. "Of course, there is something else I would be quite curious to find out, as well."

"Oh? And what is that?" Ori looked eager for more amusement. Well, Legolas rather hoped he could provide him with some. A cheerful bearer could only be good for a babe.

"My brother is the oldest, and my father's heir by right, if indeed he ever chooses to relinquish his throne. Fíli and Kíli, if indeed they are my brother's sons, are his only children. What do you think will be Thorin's reaction if he finds out he has been raising the heirs of Thranduil all this time?"

Ori's laugh was soft but clear, and if anyone stirred in their sleep at that, at least they didn't awaken.

*

When Kíli woke up, for a moment he thought the night before had been just some kind of a strange dream.

It was easy to imagine everything was just as it had been before, like any other night on the road, his arm reached around Tauriel who appeared to still be asleep. As he sat up and glanced around, though, he saw two blond elves sitting at the campfire side by side, conversing quietly while Ori seemed to busy himself with preparing breakfast.

Well. He'd never been one to shy from a challenge, and he wasn't about to start now.

"So." Kíli stood up, careful not to startle Tauriel awake, and ran a hand over his sleep-mussed hair. He'd have to get it sorted out before they got on the road, but it could wait another moment. At least he didn't have an awful many braids to put in, unlike some other people he might have named. "Have we figured out what's going on, yet?"

"Kíli." The other elf — Tulcas, that was his name — looked at him and smiled. Not the kind of smile people gave those they were trying to appear friendly to, either. No, he had seen this smile before, on Thorin's face when he was particularly proud for some reason. It was weird, receiving it from someone who was a total stranger to him, whatever they claimed to be. "When I last saw you, you fit on one of my arms."

"Aye, I've heard I wasn't a very big babe." He walked over to the campfire. "You need help, Ori?"

"No, I'm fine." Ori waved a dismissive hand at him. "You sit down and comb your hair or something."

Kíli gaped at him for a second, which Ori absolutely ignored. "Did you hear that?" He turned to the elven brothers. "You'd think he's already got a toddler to look after, the way he speaks!"

"Well, he is right, your hair is something of a mess." Tulcas' smile was still the same. "I do not think your mother would approve if she saw you right now."

"You know what she would approve of, huh?" And that, that still seemed strange. "Are you actually our father?"

"I certainly think so." The smile faded a little, but didn't disappear entirely. "I… I am not sure of much, not after so long spent in goblin dungeons. However, what I do know is that I was married to Dís, daughter of Thráin, and we had two sons, called Fíli and Kíli. They were six and one when I was taken prisoner by orcs, and then sold to the goblins in hope of a reward from my father."

"Except, of course, any demands of a reward never made it to his court, since any messenger who did not get killed by our guards was swallowed by the forest itself." Legolas shook his head. "He has told me his story, and it matches what little I know of yours."

"We can judge that when Fíli's awake, too." Kíli shook his head, walking over to his bag to get out a comb. He might as well do as Ori said, since he didn't have anything else to do right now anyway. "I can't say anything either way; I was too young to remember a thing."

"If it helps, I do have the soulmark." Tulcas' eyes followed him as he took out his comb and sat on a stone. "I understand that it's hard to believe, but I am telling the truth."

"It's not, though. Not really." He ignored the surprised looks in favour of focusing on his hair, working out the tangles one at a time. "I mean, people have been whispering that we're probably half-elven as long as I can remember, me especially. I'm tall, don't have much of a beard, and prefer bows and outdoors to axes and mountains. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if there'd be gold exchanged for this, I'm sure there are wagers placed on the matter."

"I am sorry." Tulcas' voice was quiet, now. "I should have been there from the start."

"If any of what mother's told us is true, you didn't exactly have a choice in the matter." Kíli shrugged. "Besides, if you'd been with us, there's no telling if mother would have returned to Ered Luin at all, and we wouldn't have had Thorin. So it all evens out, really."

"Ah, yes. Thorin is your uncle." Tulcas paused, then glanced at Legolas. "Well, one of them, in any case."

"He more or less raised us, together with our mum." Had done a damn good job of it, too. "And before you wonder, he hasn't had a problem with Tauriel being my wife since he got over the worst of the shock. He's also stated publicly that we are his heirs no matter who our other parent turns out to be, so that's not a problem."

"That is good to hear. I would not want you to have any trouble on my account."

"Oh, there's going to be trouble all right, but the fun kind, I'd say." Kíli grinned a bit, running his hand through a section of his hair to make sure he'd gotten out all the knots. "If I know Thorin at all, there's going to be some yelling for a moment, then he realises that this means Thranduil is involved, too, and he starts planning all the ways he can use this to make Thranduil's life miserable. So, you know, I hope you weren't hoping for your brother-in-law to get along with your father."

"No, I think that was a futile hope to start with. Though then, I cannot truly blame Thorin for not liking my father. They were not on best terms before, and from what I have heard now from Legolas, it seems the situation has hardly improved."

"Well, they are allies now, there's signatures and everything." He worked open his marriage braid, the one that he actually wore, and went on with the rest of his hair. He'd let Tauriel put that back in his hair when she woke, she was better at it anyway. He'd learnt how to do it for her, but when he tried to weave the same braid in his own hair it came out all wonky and uneven. "So at least they can't go to war over this."

"Always a relief, I am sure." Tulcas chuckled. "Dealing with my father will have to wait, though. I know his court is closer than Erebor, but between him and my wife, I know which one I would rather see first. She is in Erebor, right? Legolas told me you had retaken the mountain."

"Aye, she is, keeping Thorin somewhat in line together with Bilbo. He's Thorin's mate, you see. They've got two babes, born not too long ago."

"And you will soon have one of your own, I understand." Tulcas' eyes flicked toward Tauriel, and Kíli had to fight down an irrational urge to step between them. As though Tauriel needed his protection from anyone, least of all her old friend. "I have to admit, it is a little strange for me to get my head around. Last I saw the two of you, you were small enough I could carry you both at once. And now not only are you both fully grown, but it seems I am about to become a grandfather twice over."

"It's going to be a lot of things for us all to get used to, then." Kíli shrugged. "But good things, I hope."

"Indeed." Tulcas nodded. "Ah. How long has it been, anyway? Legolas could not tell me your exact age, and I did not exactly have a reliable way of keeping track."

"I'm seventy-three, and Fíli's seventy-eight. So if we indeed were six and one, it's been, what, seventy-two years?" Seventy-two years in a goblin dungeon. It was a wonder he was still in possession of at least most of his senses. "Ah. You want to borrow a comb?"

"Thank you, but at this point, I doubt it would make much of a difference." Tulcas sighed, running a hand over the mess of hair on his head. Even at a distance Kíli could tell that it was filthy and matted. "I might just have to chop it all off and start over."

"Oh, don't be foolish!" Kíli was almost surprised that Legolas spoke before he could, but then, he knew elves priced hair as much as dwarves did. "At least wait until we can find somewhere for you to get washed. If it still seems hopeless after that, then cut it, but do not give up yet."

Tulcas laughed. "You always had more hope than I, brother. But fine, I will wait that long, if only because I cannot very well wear a marriage braid if I do not have the hair to put it in."

Marriage braid. Their mother's braid. And she in turn would wear his, instead of the widow's braid she'd worn as long as Kíli could remember. Okay, so that might take some getting used to.

The others woke up just as Ori finished making the breakfast, and there was a rather longer conversation where Tulcas recounted the way he'd been captured and traded, while Fíli and Kíli offered the story their mother had told them. If Kíli had held any remaining doubts, they would have been chased away when Tulcas mentioned a favourite knife of his and went on to exactly describe a blade that their mother carried, which she had often told them had belonged to their father.

"Well, I guess that's that, then." Fíli glanced at Kíli and nodded. "What should we call you? Adar? Adad? Something else?"

"I would be delighted at any name you choose to give me." Tulcas smiled, and in that moment he looked almost exactly like Fíli, even filthy and beardless as he was.

Their mother would be delighted.

After not too long on the road they found a stream, which Tulcas took as an opportunity to wash off all the filth and grime of his imprisonment. Despite their combined efforts, they had to eventually admit his hair was something of a lost cause. Ori took on the not very enviable task of cutting off almost all of it, making use of the little scissors he carried for cutting his yarn. Kíli tried not to look too closely. A dwarf would not have cut their hair so short no matter what, not unless they were in deep grieving and wanted to show it. Or had been banished and shorn as a punishment, either way.

Really, Tulcas should have looked terrible, with his hair cut so close to his scalp and wearing some of Legolas' clothes that were rather too big on his withered frame. Compared with the filthy rags and matted hair, though, he actually looked much better now than he had before.

They made it to the edge of Mirkwood without much trouble. Once there, of course, they were soon greeted by one of the guards, quickly enough that Kíli rather suspected some of them had stayed behind to wait for the party's return. Whatever they might have planned to say, however, was clearly forgotten the moment they saw Tulcas.

"Y-your Highness!" And really, this shouldn't have been this much of a surprise, considering it had been the guards who had first alerted Legolas to the possibility. "You're alive!"

"Yes, I am." Tulcas smiled, looking again very much like Fíli in his more princely moments. "However, could I ask you not to send the word to my father until we are at the other border of the forest? I have some business to attend to, and I have a feeling his involvement would make things rather slower."

Kíli really shouldn't have been amused at how quickly the guards agreed to this, not even trying to protest. He tried to imagine himself telling some of Erebor's guards not to notify Thorin of his passing through the mountain, and rather suspected he would have been laughed down. Though, well, this wasn't quite like if he'd been sneaking around on his own. With Legolas and Tauriel in their party, it was more as though he'd been travelling with Fíli and Dwalin and Fíli had been the one to make the request. And it was useless to speculate on that anyway, since it was hard to imagine any circumstances aside from some short-lived prank where he would have been against Thorin knowing his whereabouts.

Apparently, his grandfather was quite different in that regard. And, oh, wasn't that a strange thought, that he might have a living grandfather.

Clearly the word hadn't gotten out, since they eventually reached the other end of Mirkwood without being stopped by anyone. All the guards had done was provide them with some guides and extra supplies, even bringing Tulcas clothes that fit him somewhat better. It was nice to see, as was the way he was looking better each day. He was talking more now, telling stories and even jokes, which surprised Kíli at first but made sense when he thought about it more. Their mother had always said they got their sense of humour from their father. It was still somewhat strange to see an immortal elf acting like this, though.

It was Gimli who had the brilliant idea that they ought to stop in Dale for a nice, warm meal that wasn't cooked on a campfire. "When we get back to the mountain, there's going to be all kinds of explanations and introductions, and I doubt we'll get to a table very soon," he reasoned, and really, none of them could argue with that. Kíli took the opportunity to get a dwarf to take word to the mountain that they were arriving soon, and their mother should come to greet them.

It was going to be a very interesting meeting, that was for sure.

"It is nice to see everything being repaired like this." Tulcas was actually on his own mount by now instead of sharing with Legolas, riding with Kíli and Tauriel, with Fíli and Ori at the front of the party and Legolas and Gimli talking at the back. At least those two seemed to have grown closer during the journey.

"Everyone's been working hard on it." Kíli shrugged. "I can't really say how far we have to go; I never saw the place before Smaug. However, I do know we've come quite a ways from what this was like when we first arrived."

"I am glad you get to see this." Tulcas smiled. "Your mother always spoke of what little she remembered of the old Erebor, having been so young when they left. It is only right that you get to inherit at least some of that."

"Really?" Kíli blinked. "You don't wish we lived in the forest instead?"

"Should I? Certainly, I wish you could see the Greenwood I remember from my youth, but the forest is not exactly hospitable right now, for all that it might have been even worse before. Whatever your choice may be, you were raised as dwarves, and it seems to me the dwarven life is what makes you happy."

"I don't know about that." Kíli shrugged. "For Fíli, certainly, he's a dwarf through and through, as the next king ought to be. Me, I wouldn't mind living in the forest for a while every now and then, assuming I didn't have to spend my time in the dungeons."

"I will have a thing or two to say to my father about that, I promise." Tulcas looked forward to the gates of the mountain. "Ah. I think I recognise that beautiful figure."

"Yes, seems like my message got through." Kíli grinned, spurring his pony until he was at the front of the party. Their mother was standing at the gates, along with Glóin and a few other members of the Company. "Mother! How lovely to see you."

"Kíli. I was told you wanted me here." Great, she hadn't noticed Tulcas yet, then. "I do hope you have a good reason for calling me, considering I interrupted a very important meeting for this."

"Aw, our returning from a very dangerous journey isn't enough?" As she just lifted an eyebrow, Kíli chuckled. "Don't worry, that's not all I have in store. We were told you would be rather interested in seeing something that we found in Goblin Town."

"And what would be so very important?" Then, she looked past him, and Kíli could see the moment she realised just who was in their party. "It's — it can't be…"

"Seems to be, though." Kíli couldn't help the way his grin got even wider. "He's not in very good shape, I know, no hair and all weedy, even more so than elves usually are, but we thought you'd like to see him anyway."

She took a few steps forward, then halted. Kíli hopped off his pony for a better look, turning back toward the approaching party. Tulcas was speeding ahead now, jumping off his horse with rather more agility than should have been expected from someone who not so long ago had been spending quite a lot of time in goblin dungeons. "Dís!" he cried out. "Dís, my beautiful Dís, you haven't aged a day!"

"Tuli!" And okay, that was true, then. Kíli wasn't sure if that was a nickname or if Tulcas had just never told her his full name. "But… you were…"

"Dead? Not quite." He strode closer to her, his arms reached out to embrace her. "Captured, yes, tortured, just a little, but very much alive. Now imagine my surprise when not only does my baby brother come around to save me, but he's got my baby boys with him."

"I thought I had lost you." Kíli had never heard his mother sound quite so fragile, not even the night before they left on the quest. "If I had known —"

Tulcas shook his head. "There was no way you could have saved me before the mountain was emptied, not without an army. Which is no slight against your skills or strength, dearest, but I suspect you might have been distracted from your crusade by having two little children to look after."

"Mmm, you might be right. These two always were rather demanding." She smiled, now. "Well, am I going to get a kiss?"

It was the first time Kíli had ever seen his parents kiss, at least in the time that he actually remembered. For something that had been such a long time in the coming, he had to admit it was rather nice.

Of course, the choking sound that Thorin made when he came out of the mountain and saw such a shocking display made it even better.

*

"You're really going all out with this, huh?"

"Well, it is the wedding of my only remaining sibling." Thorin lifted his eyebrows at Dáin. "Now, are you going to actually help me get ready, or would you rather look after the children while Bilbo helps me with this?"

"Mahal's sweaty balls, no. I swear, those little beasties of yours won't give up until they've chewed up my entire beard." Dáin huffed. "You know, some would say that a grown dwarf ought to be able to dress himself." And yet, Dáin walked over to help Thorin settle his formal cape properly.

"Some would have never dealt with all the paraphernalia that's expected of a king on formal occasions." Thorin rolled his eyes. "Not that you seem to care much."

"Me? But cousin dearest, I am but a measly lord. No kings around here, besides your majestic self." And yet he was grinning with such obvious satisfaction as he fiddled with one of the pins securing Thorin's cape. "I thought they were already married, though?"

"Only in the manner of elves, and the informal one at that." And he was just not going to think too closely on the details of that, thank you very much. "They've never had a dwarven wedding, nor one with any witnesses. And while I'm not about to accuse my sister of any impropriety, it's only right that she gets her marriage celebrated properly."

"In other words, you know it's going to grate on Thranduil to see his oldest son married in the manner of dwarves."

"I never said there weren't going to be any additional benefits." Hey, if the Elvenking was going to invade Thorin's halls to see his precious son, clearly that was the best time to have this wedding. "He ought to be grateful I'm not making him stay in the dungeons."

"As though Bilbo would let you do something so inhospitable." Dáin snorted, but then turned surprisingly serious. "So you're all right with this?"

"With what? The wedding? I hardly would have suggested it if I wasn't." And he did want his sister to have all the happiness she could. A wedding in the halls of their ancestors, even if it was some eight decades late, was the least he could offer her.

"You know, this whole thing. Your heirs also being Thranduil's heirs, and other little things like that."

Thorin thought on that for a moment, adjusting his vambraces. "I always figured there was something Dís wasn't telling me about her husband," he said at last, thinking back to the day she had appeared in Ered Luin, looking grim and determined all at once. "At first I thought he might have been disgraced, or from a hostile clan. When the lads started to grow up and the rumours started, I began to wonder if there wasn't more to it." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter to me who the boys' father was. It doesn't change what they were before, doesn't change what they're going to be. They are my heirs, and I am proud of them, and if there's elven blood in them that doesn't change any of that."

Dáin looked at him in silence for a moment. "You've changed, Thorin," he said, sounding thoughtful. "And not all for the worse, I'd say."

"Things have changed." Thorin shrugged. "I've seen how happy Kíli's elf makes him, seen the way the younger prince makes Gimli smile. I've myself found that love or match is not bound by the limits of race. If Thranduil's elder son makes my sister happy, well, I know better than to get between Dís and what she wants."

"Well, there's the wisdom a king needs." Dáin grinned, and for all that he was the younger of them Thorin got the uncomfortable feeling Dáin was currently being horribly proud of him. "You look quite fine to me, I'd say, save for the crown of course. Shall we go and save Bilbo from the wee beasties, or is there still some other bit of shiny that you ought to be attaching?"

"Please don't call my children that." Not that they didn't have their more challenging moments, of course. Thorin could admit that much. All children were difficult sometimes, such as when it had gone past midnight and both of them were crying at once and Bilbo looked about ready to join the choir. "And I think we can go now, though I rather suspect I'll get sent back for something or other." Under the tutelage of Balin and Dís Bilbo had very quickly become frighteningly knowledgeable about all the bits and pieces that made up Thorin's various outfits, and was very specific about them for someone who hadn't been formally trained in such matters.

"Aye, that's probably the case." Dáin grinned for a moment, then frowned all of a sudden, thumping his chest. The frown was gone as soon as it had come, but Thorin wasn't about to miss that.

"Something the matter?" He nudged his cousin. "Please don't tell me your heart's about to give out. I am not dealing with that scandal on top of everything else." If Dáin chose to read some genuine concern to his teasing, well, so be it.

"Oh, it's nothing. Certainly nothing for you to fret about!" Dáin shook his head firmly. "Just a little burn, that's all. Been having those since the battle every now and then, but it always fades soon."

"If you're certain." Here was hoping it wouldn't lead to sort of a scandal, at least. Dís deserved a wedding free of any accidental deaths or other such mischief.

Though if her father-in-law managed to make a fool of himself… well. He was sure Dís would be just fine with that.

At least it might distract Legolas and Gimli from getting any ideas that would actually do Glóin's poor heart in.


End file.
